


After Dark, After Light

by QuickedWeen



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 13th Century CE, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Battlefield, Commander Louis, Hunters & Hunting, Kidnapping, Laird Harry, Light Angst, Light Bondage, M/M, Outside Threats, Scotland, Scottish Highlander, Secret Relationship, Self-Acceptance, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 20:24:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 71,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19180750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickedWeen/pseuds/QuickedWeen
Summary: Harry Styles is the laird of Clan Edwards who is just trying to keep his clan afloat when they get word that the Mackenzies have been cutting a swath through the Midlands and beyond, and their sights are set on the northern Highlands next. In an attempt to garner extra protection for his clan, Harry sets out to mend his father's past wrongs and ally with their neighbors to the west, Clan Sutherland.Louis Tomlinson is the mysterious commander of the Sutherland army sent back with Harry on orders from his laird to help shore up Clan Edwards' defenses. As the winter draws nearer by the day, the two are thrown together to prepare for the invasion that they expect as soon as the ground thaws.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This day is finally here! Scottish/Highlander romance is one of my favorite genres and I'm posting my first Big Bang.
> 
> Please check out the amazing art by [belialsmiracles](https://belialsmiracles.tumblr.com). Thank you for being so enthusiastic about this project!
> 
> Many thanks also to my betas! Lynda, Holly, and Bec.
> 
> A note about historical accuracy: for the most part I stuck to the time period unless I just really didn't feel like it. It's very romanticized and not an accurate depiction of what life was like at that time. That being said, yes, they did actually bathe regularly in the Middle Ages and, no, they did not wear kilts. Kilts weren't worn for another few hundred years, but they did wear their clan plaids aka tartans as an extra layer or as cloaks for centuries before that, especially as Harry's clan members are expert weavers.
> 
> TL;DR This fic is kilt free. If you would like something with kilts in it, my prompt blog is [here](https://wendybirdpromts.tumblr.com). And my ask box is [here](https://becomeawendybird.tumblr.com/ask) (just in case you want to send something on anon). Feel free to submit prompts for post 16th century Scotland.
> 
> This fic would not be possible (none of my fics would be possible) without Sus and Emmi dragging me through them as I whined and cried. They are the very best friends ever and I love them.
> 
> The title is from "The Knife" by Maggie Rogers.

**_Northern Highlands_ , 1252**

An early autumn wind whipped through the trees, cutting through the thin plaid wrapped around Harry’s shoulders. The days were still temperate, but the nights were getting colder and colder.

Dusk was falling over the Highlands as he and a few of his warriors rode over well worn paths through the maze of trees on his land. They had gone out to hunt, gathering meat for the coming weeks so that they might feed the rest of Clan Edwards. As laird of the clan, it was Harry’s duty to provide, and he was happy to participate, but if he was away from his people for more than a day he began to grow restless.

“Time to head home, girl,” Harry said to his horse, Agan, as he dug his heels in and turned her back towards the keep.

Harry’s right-hand-man Niall, rode up beside him as soon as the trail widened. “This meat will fuel us well,” he said jovially as he bounced in his seat and sped up to cut ahead of Harry.

It was true, they had much luck in hunting that day. Niall had slain a deer, and the dried venison they made would be a treat for his people for many weeks to come. He could only imagine the ways in which his cook Gertie would be able to use the heavily salted meats to brine her stews during the winter months when they didn’t have as much fresh meat.

He was making himself hungry.

The dim twilight was making it difficult to see under the cover of the forest, but soon Niall led their hunting party through a break in the trees to the wide open fields below the fortress. His men must have been as hungry as Harry was because as soon as they hit the recently sown fields they all picked up speed, eager to get home to their families.

Their harvest had been somewhat modest this year and they would need to supplement their crops of barley and precious wheat flour with oats wherever they could for practicality, but all in all they had been successful. There wasn’t much left to harvest to attempt to fill the larders to capacity before the first frost of the year hit in a little more than a month.

Harry surveyed the fields and concentrated on trying to feel the air around him. The day had been unseasonably warm until darkness hit. They might get lucky with an additional month before the frost.

The majority of his men hit the outer walls of the keep where the gate was being held open for their return. Harry lagged behind a bit in his scrutinization of their first line of defense, a habit he had developed when he took over as laird at the tender age of nineteen. The outer wall was crumbling a bit, a sign of its age, but there was no significant structural damage. The same conclusion he reached every time he checked.

While his mind was on other things, Niall had turned around and was riding back towards him across the field.

“Harry!” he called out from a distance. Immediately Harry’s senses were on high alert.

“What’s wrong?” he called back.

Niall waved off his worry as he approached again. “Nothing, nothing. There is a visitor waiting for you inside the keep.”

His eyes were sparkling with mirth as he relayed the message which could only mean one thing. Or one person, he supposed.

“Ah,” Harry laughed. “Has his majesty deigned to grace us with his presence?”

Niall matched his humor. “He has indeed. Shall we?” he asked even as he had already started riding away.

“We shall,” Harry whispered into the wind. Niall didn’t hear his reply, but Harry didn’t mind. He knew he was eager to see his cousin Zayn, who rarely stopped by for a visit these days.

Zayn and Niall had grown up together, side by side, as close as blood brothers even though Harry was pretty sure they were only cousins by marriage. They had been inseparable in their youth, but eventually Zayn had grown too restless to stay in one place and live his whole life on the lands of Clan Edwards. Niall had been upset, but understood his decision.

At the time, Clan Edwards had been in need of another trader so Zayn took to the endless roads of the Highlands. In Harry’s father’s time as laird, Zayn had been vastly underutilized  and now he was something closer to a spy, Harry supposed. He still traded for their clan, but frequently dealt more in information than material goods.

Harry took his time joining Niall, making his way to the stables to bring Agan back and let her retire for the evening. His stable master, Arthur, was directing the handling of all the hunters’ horses with the ease of a man who had been doing the same job for almost forty years.

“What’re you doin’ out here, boy?” Arthur asked in his almost unintelligible drawl.

“Bringing the horses back, that’s what,” Harry replied, the same way he had every day for most of his life.

“Hurrumph,” Arthur scoffed at him before turning away to tend to Niall’s horse. Arthur liked to pretend to be a grumpy old man who didn’t like anyone else touching the horses, but inside he was a big old softie. Rather refreshingly, he was one of the only people in the clan who still treated Harry like the awkward, gangly little nine-year-old he had been when his father first became laird. For most of his formative years, Arthur had affectionately called him ‘princeling’ as a nod to his very suddenly elevated status. Clan Edwards would never be large enough or prosperous enough for Harry to be a prince by any means, but he had been the son of the laird at the time and given all deference he could be given. Every once in awhile, Arthur would let a ‘princeling’ slip, and it warmed Harry’s heart a bit every time.

As he handed Agan over, he gave her a pat on the neck and a brief caress down her nose before pressing a kiss to it.

“Thank you, darling,” he whispered, thanking her once again for the hand she had in keeping his clan happy and well fed.

She whinnied in return and Arthur grumbled something about Harry being ridiculous as though he wasn’t just as doting when everyone else’s backs were turned.

Harry laughed and snuck Agan an extra sugar cube before crossing into the main part of the keep. He could already smell the evening meal and hear the merry noises of his men celebrating their return from a successful hunt.

As he rounded the corner into the great hall, Niall came into view. He had his arm thrown around his cousin and was calling for a pitcher of ale to be brought to them. Aileen, the head of Harry's household and the woman in charge of all serving in the great hall, shook her head fondly at their antics before calling to one of the young girls to indulge them and bring them some.

Harry reached Aileen first in his trek across the room. She was a tall slender girl with shiny brown hair that she wore plaited up when she was about her duties. Her mother had been in charge of the serving girls before her and she took great pride in the job. Because Harry was without a wife, he relied heavily on Aileen’s expertise in those duties.

They didn’t have important guests all that often, tucked away from the main thoroughfares through the Highlands as they were, but they did occasionally get visiting lairds and chieftains on their way somewhere looking to rest their heads for the night. When those times came, Aileen was vital to the running of Harry’s keep, and he didn’t know what he would do if she ever wanted to stop.

If his mother had her way he would be married soon and that wouldn’t matter, he reminded himself.

From the way Aileen was eyeing Niall—with a softness Harry _only_ saw when she was looking at his best friend—he would certainly have to worry about her wedding before his own.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind for the time being, he snuck up on Aileen from behind.

“Some things never change, do they Ailie?” Harry asked in her ear over her shoulder, playfully pinching the back of her arm and making her jump.

She immediately set after him with the linen rag she used to make sure the goblets were clean before they were placed on the table.

“Stop it, you heathen!” she cried as Harry zig zagged, making his way through his clan members until he was right behind the head table. There was something to be said for building his household and surrounding himself with all of his closest friends from childhood. They all knew the clan and the keep backwards and forwards. More importantly, they knew Harry backwards and forwards. Between Niall and Aileen, his keep and his soldiers were taken care of, which hadn’t always been the case throughout the clan’s more recent memory.

One formidable duty in leading Clan Edwards in particular was the trade. They were a clan of craftsmen, and they were prosperous in material goods. For that, he had his mother, who was head of the operation within the keep, and his traders.

“Zaynie!” Harry greeted his old friend.

Zayn was a stoic figure most of the time. He had caramel coloring, and jet black hair, giving him a mysterious air that he loved to cultivate when they were younger. All of that went out the window when he, Niall, and Harry were together.

He rolled his eyes at Harry, but couldn’t help the smile that cracked his perfectly chiseled face. “How many times do I have to tell you never to call me that?” he asked with a general air of put-upon annoyance.

“At least one more,” Harry said with a wide grin.

Aileen came barreling through the crowd. “Sit, sit, all of you. I’d like to serve this food before I’m eighty.”

She hovered until they were all seated around the head table, and Harry didn’t miss the way her hands brushed gently across Niall’s shoulders under the guise of making sure his chair was pushed all the way up to the edge of the table as it should be.

Harry smirked, and caught Zayn’s eye. His friend was wearing a similar expression, and they both just barely managed to hold in their giggles.

Winter was fast approaching, autumn would be over before they knew it. It was a time to huddle up and share body heat for warmth. Harry was sure his best friend would be married with a baby on the way by the time the first flowers bloomed in spring.

Aileen signaled for the trenchers to be brought in to serve the head table first, making sure that Harry as laird was fed before anyone else in the clan. Harry hated that tradition, but his mother and Aileen insisted that it _was_ tradition and they must follow it.

In general, that was how it went. Harry hated all of the trappings and ceremony of being laird, but he loved his people more than anything, and would do everything in his power to make sure they were well cared for at all times.

Harry was never meant to be laird. His great uncle Cormac, a fairly distant relative, was the laird when Harry was born twenty-five years prior, and he was an incredibly gifted chieftain. The clan prospered, bellies and coffers were full, and the Edwards land was at peace with their surrounding neighbors.

In all good things, though, there was greater risk of darkness. The laird’s wife and son fell ill one autumn when Harry was about nine. Sickness had gripped the entire clan, and many families were much altered after the harsh winter. The lady and heir of the keep were not hearty enough to survive and passed away shortly after the new year.

The laird continued to rule for a few months, but found that he couldn’t go on with the menial day to day tasks required of him, such as the settling of disputes or keeping track of the household records and spending. He had fallen into deep mourning and lacked the will to continue, choosing instead to retire to a cabin on the outskirts of the land to live a quieter life.

As the laird was without a male heir, the lairdship passed to the next living male relative. At the time, that was Harry’s father, Desmond.

Harry’s father had been an entirely different sort of laird. He was the kind of leader that took the reins during a somewhat prosperous time and had high expectations of reaping the benefits while expecting the clan to sustain itself with little to no effort from him.

Desmond spent money in excess and ran them almost completely dry. He alienated surrounding clan leaders with petty disputes, and generally did nothing to help the clan in any way. Harry stayed through his youth for fear of abandoning his mother, and she in turn kept him grounded. She very carefully explained where Desmond had gone wrong and why at every step of the way during his teenage years.

She and Desmond had been wed through an arranged marriage decided on through Harry’s great uncle Cormac whilst he was laird. Anne, his mother, had been orphaned and was in need of a clan’s protection. Cormac had offered her marriage to Desmond and entrance into Clan Edwards, and she had taken it.

Cormac regretted setting up the marriage as Desmond’s true nature emerged, but he had always done his best by Anne, and Harry as well after he was born. It was with great caution that he handed over the lairdship to Desmond, hoping the responsibility would settle him down. It hadn’t.

Ten years into his leadership, Desmond led a small group of warriors on a secret raid across the border—a tactic he had been implementing to try and steal money in larger quantities instead of earning it the proper way. Something had gone wrong, and the soldiers had come back with Desmond’s lifeless body draped over the saddle of his horse instead, citing an unexpectedly strong defense from the victims of their raid.

Clan Edwards had not batted an eye before naming Harry, Desmond’s heir, their new laird.

Niall’s hand clapped on his shoulder, jolting Harry back to the present. “You alright there, Harry?”

Harry shook off the unpleasant memories of his father’s time, pasting on a smile. “That’s laird to you,” he ribbed.

Niall scoffed with blatant disrespect to Harry’s station before taking a deep pull of ale. Harry bit down on a smile and thanked God, again, for good friends that stood by his side no matter what.

As Niall continued to down what was left in his goblet, Harry watched his friend’s eyes track Aileen’s movements around the room. He sincerely hoped this winter would be the season they finally got together once and for all. They had been dancing around each other since all of them were wee ones running around the fields chasing after the sheepdogs at work.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Harry murmured. “I’m thinking of taking a wife. No reason why it shouldn’t be Aileen,” he said, louder this time.

Niall choked on the liquid left in his cup. He slammed the goblet down on the table and started coughing violently.

“What?” he asked accusingly, eyes watering as he tried to catch his breath.

Harry’s mother Anne sat up quickly when he first made his declaration, most likely to protest Aileen as a match, but Zayn had placed a reassuring hand on her arm before falling into an hysterical fit of laughter.

When Zayn had gathered himself, he leaned over and whispered in Anne’s ear, presumably to make sure she understood what Harry was about.

Anne had no issue with Aileen as a person, but she strongly believed that Harry’s marriage needed to be one of political strategy, and spoke of it often, much to his chagrin. Her insistence was one of many reasons he had yet to marry, even at the ripe old age of twenty-five.

Harry tried to maintain a straight face as he clapped Niall on the back to help clear his air passageways. “Sure, she would make anyone a fine wife, don’t you think?” he added with blustery bravado.

Niall’s entire face turned bright red, before he rounded on Harry, shooting daggers at him. As long as he refused to admit just how much he cared for Aileen, Harry would continue to goad him into doing something about it.

It was important to find the simple pleasures in life.

Gertie the cook had always had a soft spot for Zayn and she worried about him when he was on the road—it showed in his extra big portion of beautifully seasoned stew with heaps of turnips and carrots on the side. Harry rolled his eyes fondly and tucked into his own bowl.

Conversation was much the same as it always was when Zayn came back after weeks or months away. There was always time to catch him up on what had happened in his absence; marriages, births, deaths, and the like, and then there would be time later after the meal for him to regale them of his life on the road.

The tradition had evolved over time as they grew older and his stories became more mature, and less suitable for mixed company. Time with Zayn, Niall, and their friends after the meal was precious to Harry and made up some of his warmest memories.

There were times, every so often, that he thought about what would happen if he gave up being laird, and joined Zayn. Just, stepped away from everything he knew to travel the country—and beyond in some cases—in order to sell the treasured material goods of Clan Edwards. It was an adventuresome life, he was sure, but there was always the question of whether it would fulfill him. He had to catch himself, look inward and reflect to ask himself if Zayn’s nomadic life was really what he wanted.

On the one hand, it was easy to envy his friend when he came back telling tall tales of his journeys. On the other hand, Harry was sure it wasn’t all exploration and shiny new places all the time.

Deep down, Harry knew he would never be able to leave _Dun Muir Òir_ and his people. His sense of responsibility wasn’t inherent, it was learned over the course of his lifetime. Between emulating Cormac, and leading the clan out of the depths to which his father had led them, he chose to honor that responsibility. Zayn had no such ties to bind him to their clan aside from basic blood loyalty.

As the meal finished and his mother along with many of the other clan members retired above stairs or back to the cottages scattered around their lands, Harry, Zayn, and Niall gathered around the fire.

It had taken him awhile, but Harry finally understood what had been pressing at the edges of his consciousness all evening. There was something much changed about his friend.

Outwardly, all was well. But underneath the surface, to those who knew him, something was not as it should be. Harry was still having a difficult time determining if the change was positive or negative.

Aileen joined them with more ale and sweet cakes for everyone, as only Gertie could provide. As the fire dwindled and their boisterous laughter faded slowly with fatigue, Niall and Aileen drifted closer and closer to each other. Eventually they were tired enough that Aileen’s head drifted onto Niall’s shoulder in sleep.

He motioned that he was going to take her home to her family's cottage, and Harry and Zayn both nodded their understanding before watching him situate her in his arms and walk away.

Silence settled for a few moments before Zayn turned to Harry.

“How is it around here, really?” he asked.

Harry watched the embers of the fire spark off and trail away for a moment before he answered. “The same for the most part. Not much is altered since your last visit.”

“Laird,” Zayn said as he cleared his throat. Harry could tell from his tone of voice that the topic he needed to discuss was serious indeed. “The Mackenzies to the south grow stronger and more violent every day.”

His countenance matched his grave tone, and Harry sat forward in his chair, eager to hear what his friend would say. “Has it increased since you mentioned this on your last visit?”

Zayn nodded. “Tenfold. It’s a feat to move through their lands, and they are constantly expanding their territory. They’ve raided and taken over at least three more smaller clans from planting to harvest.”

Harry’s hackles immediately raised in fear of what the Mackenzie could do to their clan. “Do you believe we’re in danger?”

“Aye. He is setting his sights north.”

“And we’re the weak point. The entrance to the northernmost Highlands,” Harry filled in the rest for him.

“No, not the weak point,” Zayn hesitated. “We just have the smallest army.”

Harry appreciated his diplomacy, but it was a time for practicality and plain speak more than anything. “Zayn,” he said flatly.

Zayn held up his hands defensively. “Very well,” he said before falling silent and chewing on his lip, deep in thought.

Harry nudged their knees together. “What’s on your mind?”

The change in his friend was more prevalent at that moment than it had been all evening.

“Harry, I know you are your father’s son in blood only,” he started. “I think it’s time for you to consider trying to rebuild some of the bridges he has burned.”

Harry’s brow furrowed. In truth, he had considered it himself. There was no reason for Zayn to be so cautious. “Who did you have in mind?”

“The Sutherland,” Zayn replied quickly. “I think it’s time.”

The laird of Clan Sutherland and his father had famously not gotten along, but if Harry recalled, there was a new laird. Maybe this new laird would find worth in a clan like his that was small, but mighty, and could provide both raw and crafted goods like wool for the winter.

“Have you met and traded with them in your travels? Do you think it’s something they would be open to?” he asked eagerly.

Zayn leaned closer. “I do, very much so. They have an army the likes of which our area of the Highlands has never seen before. They are a sight to behold.”

“And the next steps?”

“Write a formal letter, so he knows of your intention to mend fences. Speak of the letter to no one else, just your plan to reach out if you must. I alone will carry the letter to him across the border, I will wait for a response, and I alone will bring his reply. I expect no treachery from Clan Sutherland, but if a Mackenzie intercepts me along the way or something else goes wrong, and I am not the one to deliver an answer, you will know something is amiss,” Zayn said earnestly.

Harry agreed wholeheartedly with the plan, but something brought him up short.

“So that _he_ knows of my intentions?” Harry asked with a smirk. Is this what had so altered his friend? “I was speaking of the clan on the whole.”

“Of course I meant the clan,” Zayn assured, even as the blush climbed up his neck to his high cheekbones.

“Very well,” Harry nodded gravely even though his cheeks hurt from keeping in his laughter. Zayn would tell him more when he was ready. Possibly. It was Zayn after all.

“Tomorrow,” Zayn said with finality. “Write the Sutherland a letter tomorrow.”

They stayed for a few more minutes basking in the warmth of the fire before retiring. After two days on the hunt, and the excessive energy spent welcoming Zayn home, Harry felt as though his limbs were made of lead. All he wanted was to collapse in his bed and sleep like a log.

He entered his bedroom, one that clearly belonged to the master of the house with a wide flat mattress stuffed to the brim with straw, feathers, and other materials, a large hearth, and thick furs on the windows to block out the deepening chill.

A maid had left out a basin for him to wash, though it had gone cold from the amount of time he had spent below with Zayn. Harry grabbed a large pot he kept nearby by the handle and filled with with some of the now lukewarm water before he brought it over to the fire, hanging it over the dying flames.

Once it was placed, he tended to the fire underneath and watched as the flames jumped to life under his ministrations, barely licking the bottom of the pot that held his bathing water. It wouldn’t take long to warm up.

With relief, Harry stripped off his thick leather braies and the hose he had worn for added warmth. His soiled tunic fell to just below the middle of his thigh, covering his dignity as he set about washing up with the linen that had been left for him. As he was finally scrubbing the dirt from his fingers, contemplating ordering a full bath instead of this substitute for one there was a sedate knock on the door before his mother opened it and entered his chamber.

This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, so Harry just continued to wash as she came in and made herself at home on the bench across the room.

He wrung out the linen and laid it aside near the hearth to dry before practically dragging himself back across his bedroom.

Harry leaned down and kissed his mother’s cheek. “Good evening,” he murmured. “I didn’t get to say it before.”

She smiled up at him from her perch. “Climb in, my darling, you must be exhausted.”

Too tired to protest, Harry did as she asked, letting his mother tuck him in just as she had when he was a young boy. It was easy to get caught up in the day to day power and keen sense of judgment needed to be a laird without processing the heavy emotional toll it took sometimes. On those occasions, he craved lifting that responsibility from his shoulders.

It was wonderful that his mother was there for him, to take care of him, but it wasn’t a stand in for what he truly wanted and craved, which was a partner to share the burden of managing the clan.

His mother pulled the blankets and furs tight to his chin before leaning over and running her hand through the front of his hair.

“What did you need, mother?” he asked the stillness of the room.

“I just wanted to see if the hunt was successful. With Zayn’s unexpected return we didn’t get the chance to discuss it this evening,” she said.

His mother was still fairly young, only twenty years his senior, having married his father for protection when she was much younger. Her kind brown eyes blinked above his in the waning light of his bedroom and he fought to keep his eyes open. He valued her opinion and wanted to discuss the prospect of speaking to the Sutherland with her.

She continued to play with his long hair, soothing him to sleep, which was counterintuitive if she also wanted information.

“It went very well, we’ll have enough to last us as we continue to stock up for the winter months. A large venison that will preserve well,” he replied. He could feel that his own voice was slower and deeper than usual, his throat scratchy and sore from the wind on the hunt and the feast earlier.

“Good,” she said as his eyelids began to drift closed. “And the comment about taking a wife?”

The saccharine sweetness in her tone was enough warning for any man. Harry’s eyes shot open with as much energy as he could muster.

“It was in jest, I swear it. Niall and Aileen should have been married years ago. I’m just trying to help the inevitable.”

His mother chuckled. “I know, darling. But you can’t avoid your own marriage forever. Eventually, something must be done.”

She continued to comb his hair in silence for a few more moments as thoughts swirled through Harry’s head regarding political strategy, marriage, love, Zayn, and the Sutherland.

“I need to speak to the Sutherland,” he murmured. His mother’s hand stilled.

“Do you think that’s wise?” she asked after a moment.

“They have a new laird. Have since last year. I think it’s generally understood that the issue was with father, not with Clan Edwards on the whole.” His mother relaxed and resumed her ministrations.

Her brow furrowed nonetheless. “That’s right, I had forgotten that. Our two clans have been separated for so long, it was easy to overlook. Why do you need to speak to him now?”

“Zayn thinks we are at risk from the Mackenzies. We discussed it this evening and think we need a stronger army.”

His mother hummed in agreement. “Yes, my dear. Does the Sutherland have a younger sister? This opens up a whole realm of new possibilities.”

Harry did his best to formulate something of a wan smile from the depths of his soul. “I’m not sure, mother. I’ll find out for you.”

She stayed for a few more minutes before he could fight exhaustion no longer and she left with the faint trail of her comforting lavender and juniper smell wafting in her wake.

Her meddling came from a good place, that he knew. She wished for him to settle down in a better situation than she had, and for him to have the companionship he so desired. In addition to those most basic requirements, she was looking for a young lady with connections, some kind of elevated birth such as another laird's daughter or sister, something that would tie Harry to another clan and help him over time.

Harry had yet to tackle the idea of telling her that he had never met a young lady that appealed to him. Ever. He wasn’t sure how she would react to that piece of information, or what it would mean for the lineage of the clan.

Determined not to waste another night on the subject, and exhausted beyond measure, he turned over on his side and let sleep take him.

 

The next day, Harry woke up with the sun the same way he did every day. As laird, he was frequently the first awake for the day and the last to take to his bed at night. He plaited his hair and dressed in the relative darkness, lifting the corner of the furs that covered his window to check the level of chill in the air. There was a fair bit, so he grabbed his fur lined vest and donned it before leaving his bedroom.

Today was his day to check the larders. He always liked to check right after a hunt to see just how successful they had been or if they needed anything else. He also checked it more frequently as the winter months approached. He and Gertie the cook had been in a bit of a power struggle about it when he first started doing it when he was nineteen and freshly appointed laird. She was so used to taking care of him and feeding him, and she was very territorial of her larders. Harry understood completely, and made sure she knew that he was just worried about the state of the clan and his ability to provide for his people.

Harry loved Gertie, she was invaluable to him in making sure everyone was fed no matter how lean the times were. His own grandmothers had died before he was born or when he was still very young, and she considered herself to be his grandmother in their stead, blood related or not.

As he exited his area of the keep to make his way down to the kitchens, he saw the young women of the clan making their way to the dairy barn, and Arthur, grumpy old man that he was, was leading the the horses out to pasture so they could run in the early morning dew. The mornings were Harry’s favorite time of day; everyone quietly went about their business, and the routine was comforting.

When he entered the main door of the kitchens, Gertie was stoking the fire from it’s dormant state that it had fallen into overnight.

“Morning, Gertie,” he said as he approached her hunched figure to press a kiss to the crown of her head.

“Good morning, love,” she said in her raspy drawl. Without asking, she handed him the heavy iron poker to make him tend the fire as she turned back to her worktop to make the oat cakes for the morning meal.

Harry smiled to himself and manipulated the large oven fire until he was sweating and the flames were roaring to life. He wiped his forehead with a cloth, and took the apple Gertie was holding out for him.

“I’m going down to check, Gertie, is there anything you need?” he asked.

“Running low on salt,” she grunted.

“Noted,” he replied. “Though, I think Zayn may have brought some back with him this trip.”

A rare smile cracked across her face at the mention of Zayn before she let it drop. “Very well,” she said.

Harry took a large, crisp bite of the apple as he left the kitchens and headed down to the larder. The temperature dropped in comparison to the massive fire in the oven as he descended the stone steps. Upon entering, he was met with large bags of grains and other dry stores, a heartening sight for any clan. Everything else looked as expected, so he spot checked the bags for bugs and other vermin. Next, he checked the meat to make sure none of it was rotted and everything was properly preserved.

His hypervigilance was excessive, he knew, but he never again wanted to get to the point where they had nothing. A state that was very common during his father’s tenure as laird.

As he was checking everything, his mother appeared in the door behind him.

“When the harvest is done, we should be set for winter,” she said. They had plenty of wool left to spin, and plenty of spun wool to then craft into garments that they could trade. That would keep the girls busy through the winter as well, which meant by spring time they would have enough material goods to then start the cycle all over again. Possibly purchase some more livestock as well.

Harry nodded. “In a week or so we’ll need to go out for another hunt.”

His mother hummed in agreement, and Harry held his arm out for his mother to take so he could accompany her back to the keep.

He walked her to the other side of the keep where their workshop was so that she could open it up for the day and the spinners and weavers could begin their work. She was in charge of all the crafts within the clan. It used to be run by both his mother and his older sister Gemma, but two years prior Gemma had married the head warrior of the Sinclair clan, one of the laird’s brothers.

The Sinclairs were their neighbors to the north, and Clan Edwards had a wonderful relationship with them, especially after Gemma married Duncan Sinclair. She was lucky to have married someone she respected and considered a friend first; they had grown to love each other over the early days of their marriage and now were endlessly devoted to each other.

That was Harry’s grievance with his mother’s pushing him to marry. She actually had a valid point. Anne needed help around the keep, and political marriages—such as Gemma’s—did have value. The longer she pushed, the closer he was to giving in and sacrificing his own happiness for the good of the clan.

It would probably be easier to argue against his own arranged marriage if he actually had some idea of what he wanted as an alternative.

When he was done walking with his mother, he stopped by the armory to grab his sword and his shield and headed to the training field. He was frequently the first one out for the day, and it was never long before Niall joined him. As usual, Harry had only been at his own personal calisthenic drills for a few moments before he heard Niall’s voice.

“Don’t you ever sleep?” he called, the same way he did almost every morning.

“I get some,” Harry replied congenially.

“Not enough, though,” Niall answered, lowering his voice as he approached.

“Too much to do, Niall,” Harry said, lightly as he stood up from where he had been crouched.

Unexpectedly serious for so early in the morning, his best friend clapped him on the shoulder and stared him straight in the eye. “But at what cost?”

Harry’s mood deflated. They had this argument every few weeks or so, and it never worked out well. Harry was never going to stop working for the betterment of his people. “Niall—” he pleaded.

The men began to file out of the keep, saving Harry by the skin of his teeth. Niall shot him a look that said he knew what Harry was trying to do.

Niall was Harry’s right hand man and head warrior. As such, he began to work them through their usual drills. They were lucky that they generally didn’t have to defend themselves very often, but if what Zayn was saying was correct, a larger threat was imminent. Harry stopped to watch his army. They weren’t large in number, or small per se, but they were also not an elite fighting force.

They all kept in physical shape, which was something Niall and Harry were very passionate about for their men, but Harry was worried about what would happen if they needed to go into battle for some reason. He and Niall both lacked the training and skill to turn men who knew how to sword fight into actual Highland warriors.

When they were done running drills, they all broke for the morning meal. The men all trudged into the great hall where the smell of warm oat cakes fresh from the oven permeated the air.

Niall and Zayn fell into their normal places next to Harry at the head of the table. Aiden, Seamus, Murtagh, his best men, sat down at seats along the rest of the table as the other men filed in, filling up the tables rapidly. Not everyone from the clan took the morning meal, but it was important as a soldier to keep yourself fed.

Caleb, Harry could see, was slow to join him at the head table, but when he scanned the room, he spotted him conferring with his sister Aileen.

“How does Caleb feel about you courting Aileen?” Harry asked. Niall choked again the same way he had the night before.

“I’m not courting Aileen,” Niall hissed.

“And why not?” Harry asked indignantly.

Niall blushed. “We’ve spoken of it before. She said no.”

“No? Why?” That was new information to Harry. He just thought Niall was being a coward before.

“I think she’s worried about not being able to work after we do,” Niall replied.

“Why wouldn’t she be able to work? Would you stop her?” Harry was shocked by his friend’s attitude and was incensed for Aileen.

“No, nothing like that. If we married, say, and she became with child, she wouldn’t be able to be on her feet all day the way she is now.” The blush had taken over Niall’s whole head, and he looked like he would rather be anywhere but trapped in this conversation with Harry.

Harry was just confused. “We could find someone to take over her duties if that was the case. She shouldn’t be worried about that.”

Niall shrugged, but there was something hesitant behind it. “As far as I can tell… She’s hoping to be there to help train a new lady of the keep first.”

“She’s waiting for me to get married?” Harry was floored. The look Niall gave him was incredibly sympathetic. He knew how Harry felt about the subject. “So you can’t court Aileen until I get married.”

“No, Harry, it’s not like that,” Niall rushed to reassure him.

“Yes it is,” Harry said.

Niall hesitated for a moment. “Maybe…”

Harry looked back and forth between Niall and Zayn, who had been quiet so far. “Just how much around here is ‘waiting’ for me to get married?”

Zayn sat frozen with wide eyes. No help there.

Niall shrugged again. “It’s tough to tell.”

Harry placed his forehead down on the scarred wood of the table. “Oh, God.”

“Harry, it’s alright,” Niall said, leaning closer.

“It’s not though, Niall,” he complained.

Zayn butt in. “Boys, maybe we should move this discussion somewhere more private.”

Niall grabbed Harry by the arm and dragged him up from the table and upstairs to his room, shutting the door behind them.

Harry slumped onto the bench at the end of his bed. Just the night before when they had been ribbing Niall about Aileen and it was all fun and games. He had no idea that anyone beyond his mother and himself were affected by the fact that he was unmarried. When he stopped and thought about it, he should have seen the various ways in which it could affect the clan, but he had been too busy trying to make sure everything else was staying afloat.

He dropped his head into his hands and groaned.

“Harry, I’m not sure what the issue is here,” Zayn said. “Lairds throughout the Highlands marry for political gain all the time. You need help. You and your mother can’t do this entirely on your own, it’s too much.”

Niall, too, added to the pile. “What’s stopping you. Really, Harry. What is it?”

Between the harshness of the years during his father’s rule, and the heavy burden of becoming laird at a young age, Harry’s friends had seen him through thick and thin. He trusted Niall and Zayn with his life.

Harry sighed before standing up to pace around the room. “I’ve said this before, but I truly don’t think I’ll ever marry.”

The room was silent as they both hesitated. “We understand why you feel that way,” Niall started. “But, your mother thinks it’s necessary.”

“Niall—”

Niall put up a hand to stop him. “Hear me out for a moment. Zayn told me what he told you about the Mackenzies becoming more and more violent every day. If we can no longer trade because they’ve taken over half the Highlands, we’re doomed as a clan.”

“Doomed is a strong word,” Harry protested weakly.

“Alright, fine, but our livelihood will be taken away.”

“Get to the point, Niall,” he ground out. He didn’t need a catalogue of all the ways he could potentially fail as laird of this clan.

“Your marriage forging a connection between us and another clan, a powerful clan—God willing—would help protect us against such a force.” Niall stood up to bodily prevent Harry from pacing any longer. “Are you waiting for love? Is that it?”

Niall was gentle in his tone, but Harry couldn’t escape the message: Harry didn’t have the luxury of waiting for a love match.

He and Niall stood there for another moment before Zayn cut in with his most soothing voice. Harry hated that he recognized it, it was condescending. Moreover, he hated that it was working.

“Look, Harry, nothing has to happen right away. We’ll move forward with the plan to contact the Sutherland and try to forge an alliance through treaties alone, but we might have to face the fact that a stronger tie would be more appropriate,” he said as diplomatically as possible.

“Does the Sutherland have any sisters?” Harry asked. He couldn’t prevent the resigned tone of his voice.

“No,” Zayn hesitated. “But someone very close to him has quite a few, and I think that may prove very useful in the future.”

Harry sat back down on the bench thinking through everything they had told him. He had been prepared to go on through life placating his mother and taking a gentle ribbing from his friends, but now it appeared that the situation was much more dire and he would have to face his own fears.

“I’ve never—” he started, unsure of how to confide in his friends about the storm clouds that were constantly swarming in his head. “There’s never been a young lady that turned my head,” he finished finally.

“Never once?” Niall asked incredulously. “Even when you were a young lad?”

Harry shook his head as the misery of finally voicing these concerns settled onto his bones. He could practically feel Niall and Zayn drifting back through the memories of their childhoods to try and remember if Harry had indeed ever fancied a young woman in the clan. Then, he watched their faces as they came up empty.

Niall was clearly dumbfounded, but it was Zayn’s response that Harry waited for with bated breath. When they were adolescents, Zayn had been open about finding both the young men and young women of the clan attractive. Neither Harry nor Niall had really understood, or seen him be attached to anyone in particular.

The night before, when Zayn’s facial expression had softened when he talked about the Sutherland. It made Harry wonder. He had ribbed Zayn about the familiar way in which he had spoken about the laird of the other clan, but what if there was something more going on between them.

But Zayn wasn’t the laird of his own clan. He didn’t have other people to think about.

“Harry, are you saying...” Zayn trailed off asking the question with his eyes.

Harry let out a shaky breath and stared at his hands. “I think so,” he said to the unvoiced question.

Stoically, Zayn came to sit down beside him and put a comforting arm around him. Harry had felt Niall stiffen as the realization washed over him, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact with him to gauge his reaction. He wasn’t sure what it would be until he felt Niall put his arm around the two of them as well, forming a sort of cocoon around Harry.

When they leaned back sometime later, Zayn was the one who spoke first. “I know this is hard. I do. But you may need to marry anyway. At least in name only,” he added.

“I know,” Harry croaked. “I’ve been struggling with how to force someone into that kind of arrangement.”

“There’s no need to force anyone. This clan can provide in equal measure, you would be a worthy husband. I think as long as you are explicit in your requirements for a marriage—or lack thereof—there are women who would see it as a blessing,” Niall pointed out.

The idea hovered in the air for a moment.

When Harry thought about the lifetime he had ahead of him bound in a loveless marriage such as Niall was describing, it made him sick. Not only would he be trapping an unsuspecting woman into an unsatisfactory arrangement, he would be trapping himself into one as well.

Harry sighed heavily. “We need to get back to training,” he said.

Niall and Zayn looked hesitant, but Harry nudged them out the door. There was no use sitting around and talking about it anymore. Eventually, Harry knew he would do his duty if he needed to, but the futility of the situation felt more overwhelming than it ever had before.

They headed out to the training field to continue the day, but the subject of his marriage weighed heavily on his mind as they continued to run sword fighting drills. As the idea turned over in his mind, his anger grew. Their clan had so much going on, so many outside forces fighting against them in regards to the health of the clan; the very least of which were the harvest, their trade, the threat of the Mackenzies, and Harry launching a diplomatic relationship with a clan that had feuded with his father. There was no reason for the question of his marriage to be cropping up now. It simply was not necessary at the moment.

Before the evening meal, Harry and Zayn retired early to his room where Harry had a small study set up for his own personal use away from the rest of the clan. They drafted a formal letter to the Sutherland, in which Harry expressed a desire to meet with him in regards to the growing threat of violence on both of their lands from the Mackenzies. In the missive he asked for a face to face meeting with the Sutherland himself, but realistically he might need to settle for a meeting with a clan representative instead.

Based on the hints Harry picked up when Zayn spoke about the other laird, he was holding out hope that whatever personal relationship they had would be enough to mend fences and bridge the two clans together again before adding the Sinclair into the mix.

Harry sealed the letter by pressing his own personal seal as the chieftain of Clan Edwards into the molten emerald wax and handed it over to Zayn.

“Travel easily, my friend,” Harry said as he pressed the scroll of parchment into Zayn’s palm. Zayn nodded in acknowledgement of his blessing. “When will you leave?”

“At first light,” he said, before he paused. “Remember what I said, Harry. Me and only me.”

“Do you expect treachery from the Sutherland?” Harry asked, suddenly worried that his perception of Zayn’s relationship with the laird was not what he thought it was.

“No, nothing like that. I worry about the Mackenzies more than anything, and running into their men on the road,” Zayn admitted.

Harry nodded. “You can handle them,” he boasted. It was true, though. Zayn was the stealthiest soldier Harry knew; lean and wiry, he spent most of his life on the road, which Harry was sure required a certain amount of thinking on his feet.

Zayn gave him a wry smile just as they heard the call for the evening meal.

During the meal, Harry passed a message around the table telling his council that they needed to gather together when everyone else retired. Due to the nature of Harry’s announcement, the mood during the meal was much more subdued around the head table than it was for the rest of the clan. Everyone ate more efficiently as well, and Harry could feel as Niall and his mother both kept shooting him worried glances, but he would tell them soon enough.

Finally, the hall cleared as everyone retired for the night. Harry’s council remained, made up of Niall, Zayn, his mother, and a few of his soldiers. Aileen made a trip around, serving them each a dram of whisky. Harry waited until she was out of the room before he cleared his throat and sat up straight to formally address those gathered.

“Trouble has been brewing,” Harry started, leaning his weight forward on his forearms. “As I’m sure you all have heard in one way or another, or possibly experienced it for yourselves, the Mackenzies grow stronger and stronger every day.”

There were various grunts and nods around the table. Gossip spread far and wide throughout the Highlands in a truly impressive amount of time.

“Zayn has been on the road, representing our clan as he should. Also, as many of you know, Clan Sutherland has a new laird as of a year ago. I don’t know much about him, but Zayn believes the man would be open to some kind of reconciliation between our clans. You all know as I do that the feud between my father and the previous laird was petty and childish. We can only hope that the Sutherland feels the same way and does not hold resentment in his heart,” Harry paused for dramatic effect and to gauge the reaction of his council, but none seemed agitated by his message so far.

“Soon, if all goes well, the Sutherland and I will sit down and discuss what will happen in the future. I’m hopeful it will result in some form of protection for our clan,” he finished as he relaxed back into his chair.

A few of his soldiers bristled at the end of his speech.

“Laird,” Aiden called, his brow furrowing over his nose in anger. “We need no protection, we can fight for ourselves.”

Harry nodded, but Niall—their commander—jumped in first. “Not against the might of the Mackenzies. Not on our own.”

Niall had been a tad bit more blunt than Harry probably would have liked, but his point remained.

They continued to squabble amongst themselves about the might of their own army, but it would serve no useful purpose, so Harry interrupted them.

“I need to know that I can count on you all if and when I am called to meet with the Sutherland. It’s not often that I travel away, but I want to be sure the clan is well taken care of in my absence.” Everyone around him nodded their heads in agreement, and as no one else had any further objections, Harry dismissed them.

The next morning, at first light as promised, Harry was there to send Zayn off on his journey to visit their neighbors to the west. He could only pray that the laird was judicious enough to grant him an audience. If he wasn’t, Harry didn’t know what he would do.

 

Harry waited six days for Zayn’s return, and it felt as though the time passed by at an excruciating pace. There was no reason for time to move so slowly.

Zayn left all the time, and returned whenever he wanted to with almost no warning, bearing gifts from far flung regions of the Highlands. It wasn’t often though, that he carried the fate of their clan in his hands.

Harry went on about his business as usual but it felt as though he didn’t take a full, deep breath the entire time his friend was gone. Nothing could hold his focus for very long, and his mother and Niall were beginning to get worried.

Finally, when the sixth day dawned and Zayn hadn’t returned, Harry was ready to stage a riot, climb onto Agan and go riding after him.

“This is taking too long. It’s a day’s ride, maybe a day and a half to get there, then the same back. Which means he’s been on Sutherland land for what? Four days? Five?” Harry cried out frantically pacing back and forth as his mother instructed one of the maids to draw him a bath.

She and Niall were placating him, attempting to get him to relax and see reason. It was entirely understandable that Zayn would not receive an instant reply from the Sutherland and be able to turn around and leave immediately.

“We know you’re worried, Harry,” Niall said as though he was speaking to a young lad of five with a skinned knee. That did nothing to help Harry’s black mood. “But Zayn knows what he’s doing. Trust him,” Niall begged.

Harry knew it would do him no good to go running off after him, but as the day carried on into evening, his concern could not help but grow.

His concerns were not unfounded.

“My lord,” a page came running, knocking first before entering Harry’s chambers, his hurry apparent in the way he pounded on the heavy wood.

“Enter,” Harry shouted. The young man rushed into his room.

“A messenger for you,” he heaved out as he tried to catch his breath.

Harry got up and crossed the room to him. “Sit down, lad.” The boy who couldn’t have been more than fifteen looked nervous to be in his laird’s chambers, sitting while they all hovered around him.

“The messenger,” Harry pressed when the boy caught his breath. “Is it Zayn?” he asked the question even though he had already guessed what the answer would be. He couldn’t help but hope that his suspicions were wrong.

“No, sir,” the boy said quietly with wide eyes.

Harry patted him on the back. “You’ve done well,” he said, even as he was moving towards the door. “Niall, come with me,” he said quietly.

“What’s the matter, Harry?” Niall asked, concerned by Harry’s response to the message.

“Before Zayn left, he told me that if anyone but him came bearing a message from Sutherland land, trouble was afoot,” he whispered so no one would overhear him. The last thing he wanted was panic over an intruder in the keep.

Niall grabbed his sword from his room next to Harry’s. As the head of his guard, it was Niall’s job to protect Harry. A duty he took very seriously.

“Let’s go,” he said as Harry was already leading the way downstairs.

The messenger was being held in the great hall with Aiden and Caleb on either side of him, keeping him in place. Harry spared a thought for his clan’s loyalty and how grateful he was for his men.

“State your business,” Harry said as he approached the messenger. The man was thin and wiry and pale of complexion with a shock of bright red hair atop his head.

“I’ll speak only to the laird of Clan Edwards,” he said plainly.

“I’m laird of this clan,” Harry replied. He could feel Niall tensing beside him.

The man nodded. “I’m to tell you that the Sutherland would like to meet with you. As soon as you’re able.”

Before the man was done speaking, Niall had signalled to Aiden and Caleb and they had the man pinned against the wall by the arms before he had the chance to take a second breath.

“What the hell is this?” the man demanded as he struggled against Aiden and Caleb’s grip. They were Harry’s biggest men, hulking in stature. There was no way the man would escape their hold. Niall approached him, holding his sword out so the edge hovered beneath the man’s chin. He immediately halted his struggling.

“Who are you?” Harry asked.

“A messenger of Clan Sutherland!” the man said getting more defensive by the moment.

“Try again,” Harry said flatly. He didn’t want to explicitly ask if the man was a Mackenzie yet, because if he asked it too early, he could show his hand and indicate he was a lot more afraid of the Mackenzies than he was letting on outwardly.

“I swear it, I’m to bring a message from the Sutherland,” the man said under strain.

“Where is Zayn?” Niall ground out, worry for his cousin mounting.

The man looked confused. “Zayn?”

There was a familiarity in the way he said Zayn’s name that indicated he knew their clansman. “Where is he?” Harry asked, pressing in closer while maintaining a safe distance from the business end of Niall’s sword.

“I don’t know!” the man cried. Harry was conflicted, but Niall certainly didn’t believe him.

“Alright,” Harry nodded to Aiden and Caleb to get their attention. “Take him down to a cell, let him stew until we can locate Zayn. See what he has to say.”

The man looked genuinely afraid at the turn of events.

Aiden and Caleb took him by either arm and began leading him down to the dungeon. Harry wasn’t even sure when it was they used the dungeon last if not for petty theft or letting someone sleep off being a menace whilst overindulging in their whisky.

It wasn’t until the man was out of sight that Harry’s panic rose back up to the surface. Zayn could be anywhere. He could have been captured. They needed to send out a search party.

“Niall—”

“I know, send out a search party looking for Zayn going west,” he recited quickly as he turned towards the practice fields to round up some men.

“Right,” Harry said as soon as he was out of sight. Worry for his friend blanketed his brain, but he was without something concrete to do. Aiden and Caleb would take over guard duty, Niall would lead the rescue mission. There was nothing Harry could do without getting in the way.

“What’s all the excitement?” Harry heard as the great hall fell silent.

His head shot up. “Zayn!” he cried. Overwhelmed with relief he ran towards him and wrapped him in a hug.

“Harry, what’s wrong?” Zayn asked, his question muffled in Harry’s hair.

“We thought you were dead,” Harry said as he leaned back to punch Zayn in the shoulder. “Never do that again.”

“I’m sorry I took so long I was… Well, that’s a story for another time, but I’m sorry I worried you,” he said.

Harry brushed him off. “No, Zayn, you don’t understand. We’ve had a messenger that claims he’s from Clan Sutherland. Aiden and Caleb have just locked him up and Niall is at this very moment mounting a rescue mission for you.”

Zayn’s eyes widened. “Take me to this messenger. I must seem him right away,” he said.

Harry nodded. “He’s not been down there but ten minutes,” he said, even as he was signaling for a messenger to find Niall.

They took off for the dungeon, Zayn hot on Harry’s heels. After the way the prisoner seemed to know Zayn, and not understand why he was met with hostility, Harry was very curious indeed.

If the man was a Mackenzie who had met Zayn on his travels, that would make sense, but fear gripped his heart at the thought of the Mackenzie’s already having their ear to the ground regarding his clan and their movements. Invasion from the clan might be closer than he thought if they were already tracking them.

On the other hand, the clan was even worse off if this messenger meant treachery on behalf of the Sutherland. If the Sutherland meant to betray Harry and invade Clan Edwards first before the Mackenzies could get at them, their hope was lost.

No matter what, they would always have protection from the Sinclairs to the north, but they were much more isolated and it was difficult for them to assemble and come to Harry’s aid without some notice. That was part of the reason Harry was so desperately seeking the alliance with another clan that was closer to both Edwards land as well as the source of the conflict.

Harry opened the door to the dungeon. It was dank to be sure, which Harry felt a little guilty about. Prisoner or no, no one should have to rot away in this sort of environment.

“This is the man,” Harry said as they came to a stop in front of the prisoner’s cell. The man didn’t look particularly put out, more confused than anything if Harry was reading him correctly.

Zayn chuckled. “Oli Wright, what are you doing here?”

Harry looked at him sharply. The two men _did_ know each other.

“I was told to bring the message that the laird would meet with _your_ laird,” the man apparently called Oli explained.

“Hmm,” Zayn studied the man for a few moments. “You can let him out, Harry.”

Harry startled. “Are you sure?” He trusted Zayn implicitly, but Zayn wasn’t one to trust anyone easily. If he really didn’t think this man would murder Harry in his sleep, Harry would certainly maintain a healthy level of skepticism, but he would believe him.

“I’m not sure exactly what is amiss here, but I have a good guess. It will have to keep until we get to Sutherland land and can iron it all out,” he said.

Harry gestured for Aiden to unlock the cell, and Oli stepped back so the heavy iron door could be opened fully.

“We’re still going to put a sentry on your door, Oli,” Zayn said congenially. “But a guest bedroom will be a sight more comfortable than the dungeon.”

Oli shrugged, “I’ll take what I can get. I do need to ride back tomorrow, though.”

Zayn nodded. “Understood. We’ll all ride together.”

Harry balked at that. “A word, Zayn?”

A maid came to show Oli to his lodgings, while Harry and Zayn huddled in the corner of the room. It didn’t take long before Niall joined them, all the while giving Zayn a thorough tongue lashing for scaring them the way he did.

“When you’re quite finished, Niall,” Harry drawled.

Zayn cleared his throat and drew a letter out of his waistcoat. “Sorry, Harry, here is the letter from the Sutherland.”

It was still sealed, but Zayn began to recite it’s contents before Harry had even broken the wax.

“All it says is yes, he would like to meet you face to face. He requests that your delegation is small because he doesn’t know you, doesn’t trust you. But, I think he’s very open to negotiation between the two clans.” Zayn added color to the few short lines of the missive.

Nothing scared Harry more than going into situations with naught but a few men. After his father died the same way it terrified him, but he needed to remind himself that his men were not his father’s men. His men were Niall and Zayn and his soldiers that he had grown up with and that they were all more loyal than anyone else in the Highlands.

“Alright, we prepare tonight, but it will take some time,” Harry warned.

“That’s fine,” Zayn replied. “Oli will stay the night, you make your preparations, all will be well.”

“Who do you think sent him?” Harry asked in more hushed tones.

“I know who sent him, I just don’t know why. We must keep him in our sights at all times. Station a sentry outside his room tonight.” Zayn eyed the intruder like he was a puzzle missing a piece. He could solve it almost entirely, but there was one piece missing, rendering the whole thing useless.

“You’re not worried about his intentions?” Niall asked.

Zayn nodded, “I am very worried about his intentions, but not for you, Harry. For the Sutherland.”

Harry began to understand at least a little bit. Zayn clearly had knowledge of how Clan Sutherland operated, he must have been worried about how this man’s actions would eventually threaten the other laird.

“Noted,” Harry replied. “We’ll leave after the morning meal.”

 

That night, Harry slept fitfully. Their guest, Oli, never intruded on his room or threatened his life in any way, which was heartening. Unfortunately, he was awake to monitor him.

All night long, Harry tossed and turned worried about his meeting with the Sutherland. The man had been conflated to epic proportions within Harry’s conscious, and he grew more and more worried that he wouldn’t have enough to offer the Sutherland by way of trade for protection.

The morning dawned much quicker than Harry would have preferred, and he moved around the room quietly, checking his pack that he would hitch to Agan later on in the day.

It would be a day’s ride or so to Sutherland land, stopping once before arriving there the following morning. Harry could only hope that the other laird was nice and decently hospitable. He also took a moment to thank the heavens that the laird had offered to host them. On the one hand it was more dangerous for Harry to go to their lands, but it also saved his clan from having to host a large party that the other laird would surely bring.

There was no reason to deplete his clan’s resources more than he had to before the winter months hit.

Harry wrapped himself in his extra plaid and made his way downstairs to where Arthur already had Agan saddled and ready to go for him. There was a horse saddled for Zayn and the messenger as well, but to Harry’s shock, Niall’s horse was ready to go.

Harry turned around to find Niall to give him a piece of his mind, but his mother was there with a steadying hand on his shoulder. Niall could wait.

“Good morning,” he said, visibly reining in his frustration.

Anne looked at him with an indulgent smile on her face. “We know that you told Niall to stay here, but I would feel more comfortable if he went with you.” She reached up to pat Harry on the head as though he was still a child.

With exaggerated movements, Harry looked down at the large ceremonial signet ring and seal that he wore on his middle finger. “Who exactly is the laird of this clan?” he pondered aloud. “Because I seem to have forgotten.”

His mother shushed him. “Hush now, I’m worried about your safety. You can’t march into someone else’s territory with one of their men and only Zayn to protect you,” she insisted. Zayn made an affronted noise as he came out of the keep in the direction of the stables.

Harry’s immediate reaction softened a bit. “I know, but I need everyone else to stay here and take care of the clan in my stead.”

She shook her head. “No, Harry, trust me. It will look suspicious enough that you’re arriving with such a small party anyway.”

“That’s only so it will look less suspicious to anyone else on the road,” he protested.

“I know that, and that’s completely understandable, but that also doesn’t make it any less unusual. You should be on your guard the whole time, and the Sutherland, too, should be on his guard against you if he’s smart. It’s the only sensible thing,” she finished definitively. Her tone made it clear that Niall was accompanying Harry and the conversation was over.

Harry had never and would never think that his safety took precedence over the clan’s safety. That’s what mothers were for, he supposed.

She was right, though, that it didn’t project a very strong presence. Given the reason for his visit, he could only hope that their clan understood why he chose to ride with a much smaller party. Their messenger, too, had seen that Clan Edwards was doing well for themselves despite Harry’s near constant worrying. There was plenty of food enough in their bellies and warm hearths at night, all because of that same worrying.

Niall emerged from the keep munching happily on one of Gertie’s oatcakes with his Edwards plaid slung over his shoulder. Harry glared at him. His mother had already talked him round, but Niall didn’t know that.

Immediately he held up his hands in defense. “My job is to protect you, laird, Sir.” He gave a cheeky half bow at the end, pieces of oat cake crumbling onto the grass below his feet.

Harry rolled his eyes at Niall’s vaguely teasing tone, and turned to mount Agan and seat himself in her saddle.

“I’ll take that as a, ‘Yes, please, Niall. Come with me! Protect me!’” his friend continued to jabber away as he slung his pack over the saddle of his own horse.

Suddenly, behind them, Aileen burst out of the side door of the keep. When she spotted Niall, who was still on the ground, she broke out into a run. Throwing her arms around his neck, she planted a big fat kiss on his mouth.

Niall was visibly shocked, and it took him a moment before he caught on, wrapping his arms around her waist to support her and lean into the kiss more fiercely.

She pulled back from him and gripped his jaw under the chin. “You come back to me, Niall Horan,” she said forcefully.

His eyes had widened in shock, and he nodded slowly as she turned around and went back inside the walls of the keep.

Everyone was silent and still until she disappeared, then a few giggles broke out and some of the other men who were there to send them off surrounded Niall to give him a congratulatory pat on the back.

Harry was amused, but he couldn’t let go of a strangely ominous feeling. He hadn’t been too worried about their safety until Aileen had been worried. It was true, though, it was dangerous for them to go into unknown territory relatively unarmed. She had given Harry the push he needed to fully come to terms with it.

Niall mounted his horse with a dopey smile on his face, and Zayn and the messenger followed. Harry’s mother approached Agan, patting Harry on the knee.

“You’ll be fine, love,” she said with a smile. The sun was rising higher and higher in the sky, and Zayn clearly wanted to get on the road. Harry covered her hand with his own for a moment before she backed out of the way so that they could depart.

It took them awhile to make it off Edwards land. They owned a fair bit of it heading west, so it took some time. When they reached the outer edge of their land, they checked in with the guards on duty before continuing on their way.

“Your lands are very beautiful,” the messenger, Oli, said. It was all he had really said all morning.

“Thank you,” Harry replied trying to be as civil as possible. He trusted that Zayn knew what he was doing, but he was still worried about the messenger’s presence and what it would mean. Never again did he want to relive the pure icy fear that had gripped his heart when the messenger arrived claiming he was carrying a message from the other laird.

They continued to ride in silence, more vigilant now that they were no longer on their own land. This, now, was where the danger lay.

A few hours into the ride, Harry saw his opportunity. They stopped to water the horses and stretch their legs for a few minutes. The messenger walked away to relieve himself, and Harry called both Zayn and Niall over, trying to maintain an air of casual chit chat in case the man came back from the woods too soon.

“Will you not tell us any more of what you know of him?” Harry asked Zayn.

Zayn shook his head. “Not until I see what his master’s motives were in sending him.”

In explaining why he wasn’t giving more information, Zayn had unexpectedly given him more knowledge. As much as he wanted to, Harry wouldn’t tease him about it later. Not later that day. Maybe once he had signed a treaty of protection and they were clear of the heightened tension of their situation.

“He has a master?” Harry asked. Niall leaned in closer as well, giving up his not very well feigned nonchalance.

Zayn gave Harry a quelling look and clammed up tight. Harry didn’t have time to press as the messenger was returning from his spot in the woods.

He nodded to them politely as they all mounted again and set off down the road. By Harry’s estimation they had another four or five hours until nightfall. They would find somewhere to camp for the night and then continue west in the morning.

It was a late afternoon in autumn riding through the Highlands, and the vistas they saw along the way were truly spectacular. The beauty of the land always took Harry’s breath away. It wasn’t often that he managed to make it so many miles away from their land—not the way he did when he was younger—and he forgot how much he loved it.

He was ashamed to say that his legs and arse were quite sore after spending ten hours in a saddle, though. Apparently he really hadn’t been riding enough lately. His younger self would have teased him to no end.

Zayn shot down a few pheasants for them to roast, and dressed them quickly as Harry started the fire. The three of them moved in tandem as they had so many times before in their youth.

Harry didn’t realize Oli had been watching them until he spoke up.

“The three of you, you’re very close?” he asked Harry.

Harry nodded solemnly, wondering what the purpose of his question was. “Like brothers,” he replied. Oli considered him for a long moment before silently going back to helping Harry stoke the flames so their fire would grow.

They ate their dinner in comfortable silence before retiring for the night. Niall insisted on sleeping near him that night for his protection and Harry was too tired to argue.

 

The next morning, dawn broke more quickly than Harry would have liked again. He took some time to stretch his sore muscles that had been made worse by sleeping on the cold, hard ground.

On the bright side, Oli the messenger had again neglected to murder him during the night.

All four of them gathered up their things, eager to get on their way and reach Sutherland land at some point that morning. They were still about an hour away.

Their morning ride passed quickly and soon Oli and Zayn began to indicate that they were approaching the outer edge of Sutherland land. Harry’s heart began pounding at the news and his palms grew sweaty, slipping on his reins a few times. Agan, thankfully, was a steady horse who knew what Harry wanted sometimes better than Harry did. She ignored him most of the time anyway.

This wasn’t his first diplomatic mission as laird, and it certainly wouldn’t be his last, but for some reason the importance of this visit felt absolutely insurmountable.

Niall must have noticed the tension he was holding in his seat because he held Harry back for a moment to ask if he was okay. When Harry answered in the affirmative, Niall patted his shoulder and they continued on towards the guard post.

Oli called out to the man at the post and announced their presence. The man was confused, Harry was sure, to see Oli arriving this way, but the guards must have also been instructed to allow Harry and his accompanying party to enter their land. Another messenger—the guard’s second in the area—was dispatched to the keep ahead of their arrival to let the laird know they were coming. Again, the tension in Harry’s body mounted.

He didn’t make a very majestic picture this way—laird of Clan Edwards that he was—and he thought back to what his mother had said before he left. He was entering what was effectively enemy territory with just Niall and Zayn for protection and representation to beg for his clan’s life.

There was a chance he was being a bit over dramatic about the situation.

They approached the large main building of the keep, and Harry couldn’t help but compare it to his own. The Sutherland keep, _Dun Beinn Ghlas_ , was so named because it was carved into the side of a mountain. The strategist in Harry admired that it only had to be protected from three sides, as it would be almost impossible to approach it from above.

It was taller than theirs, he could tell, with a few more towers, but the overall footprint was smaller. Where _Muir Òir_ had a more sprawling feel, this building was a bit more foreboding.

Or maybe Harry was projecting.

Oli wished them well and broke off from their group riding away towards where Harry could only guess the stables were.

A welcome party was waiting for them at the gate of the keep, but he couldn’t see them in detail yet. Somewhere to their left, Harry heard the clash of swords, and he could only presume that the Sutherland’s men were in training the same way his were back at home. Given the Sutherland army’s astounding reputation across the land, it was a safe assumption.

They entered the keep on horseback and as the delegation grew nearer, Harry could see a man standing in the middle of the group. He was somewhere around Harry’s height with brown hair and a soft face that was lit up with a smile. Harry’s heart lifted with hope that this friendly, open man was the Sutherland.

“Welcome!” the man called, and Harry’s fear eased a bit more.

They pulled their horses to a stop and collectively dismounted. Attendants descended on them to lift their packs and carry them into the keep.

“I’m Liam, laird of Clan Sutherland,” the man said jovially to Niall and Harry. “Which one of you is the Edwards?”

Harry brushed himself off, readjusted his plaid and stepped forward. “That would be me, though just Harry will be fine.” he replied, tension almost completely gone now that he was close enough to experience the Sutherland’s warm energy up close.

“This is Niall, my second in command,” Harry indicated to his best friend. “And I believe you already know Zayn,” he added.

“Again, welcome to Sutherland lands,” the laird said. “Please call me Liam as well.” He reached out and shook hands with both Harry and Niall, before turning around and introducing some members of his family and council.

“I’m sure you’re tired from your journey. I’ll have someone show you to your rooms. You can freshen up and then shall we reconvene for the midday meal? It would seem we have much to discuss,” Liam announced.

Harry agreed, grateful for his hospitality. “That would be wonderful,” he replied.

A servant appeared out of nowhere to lead them into the main building of the keep.

“Caena will show you to your rooms. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go let my men know that the midday meal will be served a bit earlier,” Liam said, gesturing that they should follow the servant girl.

Harry and Niall turned to enter the keep, but he felt the air change as Zayn didn’t follow them. When he turned around, Harry saw that Zayn’s head was bowed towards Liam’s and he was whispering something frantically.

Zayn must have felt Harry’s eyes on him, because when he realized someone else was watching, he snapped to attention and rushed to join them on their way to the guest rooms, leaving Liam to stare questioningly at his back.

Inside, the keep looked much the same as his own. The layout was slightly different and a bit more modern if Harry had to guess, but it was all generally the same. If he was looking for the signs, he could see that their clan was a bit more sparse in decoration than his own was. A little less cozy. But, Harry supposed that made sense given the darning and weaving trade craft of his clan versus the warrior atmosphere of Clan Sutherland.

The guest rooms they were showed to were well outfitted with plenty of furs on the window and bed for extra warmth, and a fire already going in the hearth and a small tub set up so Harry could take a bath. He might have collapsed on the bed in relief if not for his sore muscles, and he quickly crossed the room to hang up a pot of water so it could sit over the fire for a moment to warm up.

Once the water was to temperature, Harry lifted it off the fire and soaked a linen to start massaging the soothing water into his skin. His pack had already been brought to his room, so he stripped off his tunic to change for another one that was a little less road-worn.

He took out his hair, brushed it, and re-plaited it as well so that the bulk of it was held back off his face by two braids that met at the back of his head while the rest of it lay in its natural curl underneath. Afterwards, he felt like a new person.

A bell rang to call for the midday meal, and soon after Niall knocked on his door. When he opened it, Zayn was there was as well, both looking as refreshed from their journey as Harry felt.

They descended the stairs together, and Harry was pleasantly surprised to see that Liam was waiting there to greet them. Overall, it felt to Harry as though the Sutherland clan functioned much like his own, despite having only seen a small fraction of it so far.

“Feeling better?” he asked, with the same open manner Harry had seen when they initially arrived.

“Much, thank you,” he replied as Liam strode towards the din of their great hall. For all that on closer inspection the laird was a few inches shorter than Harry, he strode with great purpose, and Harry’s gangly legs had to rush to catch up. He almost tripped once or twice and he heard Niall’s infinitesimal snicker in his direction. “Shut up,” he hissed under his breath.

They entered and were led to the head table, all three of them were shown seats next to where Liam was situated at the head, but there was an empty seat left next to him.

Of the many rumors he had heard about the Sutherland clan, they all came with a shroud of mystery about just who had come in to whip their army into shape and build it into what it was. Harry could only assume that the seat was left for Liam’s right hand man responsible for such a feat.

The hall was only about half full and Liam leaned over to explain to Harry. “The men are still out in the fields but should be returning momentarily. Then we can get started.”

As the words left his mouth, the first cluster of soldiers entered the hall. Harry relished the familiar sight of post-drill warriors coming off the field to refresh themselves and fill their bellies to get ready for the afternoon sessions.

More and more filed in to break their fast, and the groups began to disperse around the room. The fewest amount of men approached the head table, one for business, and another to update Liam on an animal that had been sick but was making a recovery, but no sign of the mysterious soldier.

The servants began to serve the meal, starting first with large pillowy loaves of bread and hunks of hard cheese. Harry had just lifted his goblet of ale to his lips to take a sip when another figure approached the table.

“How nice of you to join us,” Liam cried out to the person approaching. Harry saw Oli the messenger first, and his shock of ginger hair. Surely he couldn’t be the commander of their army. Zayn would have told him.

He broke off and moved to a seat much farther down the table, but he was still at the head table so he couldn’t be a mere messenger.

When he moved aside, though, he inadvertently presented Harry with the most beautiful man he had ever seen in his entire life. And that was the word for him, beautiful. He was lean and wiry with a latent strength that Harry could sense rather than see. His skin was impossibly tanned and smooth for the chill the weather had taken, and his hair was soft and windswept. There was the tiniest hint of color on his cheeks from being out in the wind all morning, Harry could only guess.

Maybe angelic was a better word. Or ethereal.

That was it, ethereal. No matter what, he was not of this earth, and Harry was struck dumb.

“Liam,” the angel said, his voice soft and lilting. He had yet to acknowledge Harry’s presence.

“Louis,” Liam said more seriously. “May I introduce to you Harry, laird of Clan Edwards and his second, Niall.”

Louis finally glanced away from Liam, landing on Niall first before his gaze sharpened and narrowed on Harry.

“Hello,” he said flatly, before turning to the bread and cheese in the center of the table, with absolutely no introduction or explanation of himself.

Harry bristled for a moment at the overt rudeness, but didn’t outwardly react. He didn’t want to take a risk in alienating Liam by having a disagreement with someone he clearly trusted implicitly based on all that Harry had seen and heard.

There was an ease of movement and comfort between the two men that Harry saw mirrored in his own relationship with Niall, and he couldn’t fault Liam for wanting to surround himself with friendships like that. These were men that knew what it meant to protect each other when their lives were on the line.

As he thought it over and watched Liam and Louis interact—Louis updating him on something, the morning sessions possibly, in hushed tones—he continued to relax. It was entirely possible that Louis was a quiet person, shy for a brutal warrior if the stories were to be believed. Harry studied his movements. They were graceful and soft in a way that did nothing to belie any kind of harshness of battle. It was entrancing really, to watch the way his hands floated through the air as he ate and gesticulated while he spoke to Liam.

The conversation continued around him, but Harry floated above it all really, not hearing much of anything specific while he watched Louis’ enigmatic figure.

Soon enough, Niall nudged his elbow out from where his arm was leaning on the chair, holding up his chin. Harry’s head lurched with the sudden lack of support, startling him.

“You’ve got to stop staring, Harry,” Niall said out of the corner of his mouth. “He hasn’t got three heads or anything. Why do you keep looking over there?”

“Nothing, no reason,” Harry stammered.

Niall gave him a long look before tucking back into his venison stew. Harry, too, realized he hadn’t eaten much of anything yet and tucked in to his portion. The recipe was as good as Gertie’s which was saying something.

Liam leaned closer to Harry; “After the meal, we should meet with my council. Then I would be more than happy to give you a tour of the keep and the surrounding land if you would like.”

His kindness continued to lift Harry’s spirits. “That would be nice. I must say, the structure fascinated me as we came in. It’s so different from our own, I would love to explore it more.”

Their conversation was very formal and a little stilted, but Harry could feel himself getting more and more comfortable with Liam as the meal drew to a close. If he had any luck at all, that would form the tone of the meeting they about to have.

Unfortunately, with the mention of the meeting, Harry’s nerves ramped up again and his food began to turn to dust in his mouth. He didn’t want to be rude and not eat what was offered of him, so he continued to eat, but couldn’t enjoy any of the richness or flavor, and he started to feel a bit queasy.

Their meal was cleared away eventually, and Liam indicated that they should follow him. A few people broke off from their table as well, including Louis.

Harry watched the grace with which he moved with a combination of envy and curiosity. He had barely interacted with him throughout the meal, Louis had soundly ignored him, but his interest was piqued. At the moment, though, Harry’s vision was beginning to go fuzzy around the edges, and his palms were growing sweatier by the second.

He took deep breaths as Liam led them to a door at the end of the corridor. As soon as he opened the massive structure, Harry could see that it was a circular staircase and therefore must lead to one of the towers they had seen on their way into the keep.

Their party filed up one by one and Harry took even, calming breaths. From his place behind him, Niall must have felt Harry’s discomfort because he placed a warm hand on his back and it was a fortifying presence. Whatever happened, Harry was not alone here. He was not alone in fighting for his clan.

Liam led them all into a small study with a hearth that was lit just for this purpose. As they all settled down into the worn leather chairs, Liam offered them each a dram of whisky in turn, and Harry accepted. It certainly wouldn’t hurt.

The gulp he took burned his throat on the way down, warming him up from the inside out. He placed his now empty glass on the small table as Liam took his own seat. The only person who remained standing was Louis. He leaned against the stone wall his limbs loose and relaxed on the surface, but Harry could see that he had strategically placed himself between Harry and the door, while maintaining a close and careful distance with Liam. It felt as though he wasn’t there, yet also somehow looming over the proceedings.

“Now, Harry, Zayn and I have discussed this before, but your letter was concerning but not surprising to me.” Harry did his best to bite his tongue and waited for him to finish what he had to say. “Though by now I have told the rest of my council, I’ll repeat what it was you said. The Mackenzie clan has grown more and more violent and encroaching over the past year or so, and between both of our clans, our land covers a fair amount of ground between their rightful land and their pursuits to the north. Harry wrote me—I can only assume—to propose some kind of agreement for protection between our clans. I realize our clans have been at odds in the past, but what Harry and I are after is a treaty of sorts.”

Harry nodded and cleared his throat, ready to swallow his pride, fall on his knees, and beg if it meant the insured safety of his clan.

“Clan Edwards does not have anywhere hear your reputation for military prowess, and it’s for that reason that we believe we’re the Mackenzie’s intended target for when they try to move north. We would be the biggest clan they raided, but based on how quickly they have been moving, I wouldn’t put it past them. Which is why we’re here,” he said addressing Liam.

But it was Louis who replied. “And what can you offer us?”

The entirety of Liam’s council, including Liam himself stiffened at his lack of tact or diplomacy. Truthfully, Harry knew that they weren’t bringing as much to the table in this agreement, so he was prepared for the question and therefore unoffended.

Harry truly locked eyes with the soldier for the first time. The intensity behind his gaze was frightening, as though he was trying to flay Harry open and reveal all of his secrets to the world before carefully sewing him back up again once he was satisfied. It sent a shiver down Harry’s spine, but he forced himself not to react or break eye contact. A show of strength. That was what he needed, desperately.

“Louis,” Liam pleaded. “What he means is—”

“It’s alright,” Harry cut Liam off with a small smile, and turned to address Louis directly. The diplomatic platitudes were nice, but unnecessary. “He’s right. We’re a clan of tradesmen and craftsmen. We have a healthy harvest that keeps our clan full, and we both spin wool and produce goods with it. Our weavers are masters. There is naught we can offer you by way of military protection that you cannot provide yourselves.”

“So then why should we help you?” Louis asked, his stance against the wall still deceptively relaxed.

“To protect the rest of the Highlands, to increase your numbers, I’m not sure. What do you need?” Harry asked, matching his tone. He was quickly losing control of the situation, but he was doing the negotiation equivalent of waving the white flag of surrender.

Louis didn’t answer, choosing instead to remain silent while staring Harry down with defiance behind his eyes.

“Food,” Liam said quickly. Harry’s heart stopped for a moment, because he truly couldn’t offer Liam much of anything. “We have enough dry stores, but the mountainous lands and dense forest to the north here make it difficult for us to hunt an already dwindling population.”

That threw Harry for a loop, but everything Liam was saying made perfect sense. “You need to hunt?”

“We do. And we need more warm clothes for winter. If we offer something by way of protection when the time comes, would you be able to sweeten the deal with more wool and furs?” Liam asked.

“Yes,” Harry answered without another thought. This was a dream come true for him. Their lands were rife with game, and his clan could certainly spare the wool. It meant they would have to look closely at the actual money coming in from the other traders on the road, but all the money in the world would do nothing to protect them from battle.

And if he married soon, there was always the possibility that his wife would come with a dowry to refill their coffers.

The thought was sobering and he quickly pushed it to the back of his mind. That was a problem for another time.

As soon as he agreed there was a tangible breath of relief around the room, and Liam reached over to grasp his forearm in the universal sign of agreement.

Harry couldn’t help but let his eyes drift to Louis’ perch on the wall. His face remained unchanged, but he continued to follow Harry with his eyes and they again made brief but intense eye contact. Harry got the sense that Louis was the only person who was disappointed with the result of their verbal agreement. There was also an overwhelming feeling that Louis didn’t like Harry, didn’t trust him. The distrust was palpable, coming off of him in waves.

Unease settled in Harry’s gut, despite the constructive things that had come out of the meeting, as Liam poured everyone another round and said he would have someone make up a treaty between the two parties that afternoon and they could sign it after the evening meal.

That left Harry and Liam to tour the keep.

Niall pulled him aside as they made their way back to the heart of the keep. “I’m coming with you,” he said, lowering his voice.

“Niall—” Harry warned. He didn’t want to do anything to infringe on Liam’s hospitality when the mission had gone so well so far. The implication had been that Liam would show Harry around the Sutherland keep and they would take the opportunity to talk, laird to laird as it were.

“I know. I’ll maintain a respectful distance, but Harry,” he shifted his weight from foot to foot and checked back and forth over each shoulder. “I don’t like the way that man was eyeing you.”

“Well you complained about how I eyed him first,” Harry said petulantly.

Niall waited.

Harry conceded. “Fine, but maintain enough distance that there is some semblance of privacy.”

They both relaxed and Harry leaned against the wall behind him, taking the opportunity to study the courtyard of _Beinn Ghlas_. It was as busy as his own, the sights and sounds much the same, which, again he found to be oddly comforting.

A gaggle of young children ran by giggling and playing some sort of game, chaperoned by their nurse. Watching them at play made him think of having his own children some day. That was the only part of marriage that he longed for, having an heir to be sure, but first and foremost having a family.

The more he studied them, the more he saw something in the nurse that was familiar. Less than familiar, he would say. The ghost of something dancing right on the edges of his consciousness.

He shook away the thought as Liam approached him. He clapped Harry on the shoulder in greeting, then gave him a regretful look. “I’m afraid Louis is insisting on coming along with us.”

Harry couldn’t help the guffaw that escaped from deep in his abdomen. “That’s perfectly alright, Niall is too,” he gestured to his best friend.

“This is, I suppose, what it takes for a laird to survive,” Liam mused. “Best friends and commanders that are far less trusting than we are.”

Harry commiserated with him for another moment before they set off on their tour of the grounds.

Niall and Louis, true to their word, kept pace with each other at a respectful distance giving Harry and Liam the chance to finally speak to each other without the pomp and circumstance.

They spoke about different areas of the keep, Liam showed him how it was built into the mountain and the advantages that held for defense. All the while, Harry was practically bursting at the seams to ask him about the transfer of power that made Liam laird the year before.

His time came, finally, when they got to the armory. Liam was showing him some of the traditional Sutherland armor, and Harry saw his opening.

“How has it been for you, then?” he cursed himself for not finding a better way to phrase the question he was trying to ask, but Liam could easily read what he meant. They exited the armory and began walking down towards the stables, and Harry’s heart lifted at the possibility of seeing Agan if only for a brief moment.

Liam sighed as he watched both of their seconds in command began moving as they did. “I’ve heard your story about your father. I’m sorry his death was so sudden,” he started. For all that he had been pleasantly surprised by Liam’s kindness so far, there were still some things he didn’t need to know, so Harry kept his mouth shut.

He could sense Liam had more to say.

“It wasn’t like that for me. The previous laird had no direct male heirs, so he needed to find a successor. I’m a distant cousin, but had been highly involved in his council for quite a long time. He told me when the time came that I was a natural choice.”

They walked on, circling the grounds outside the keep as Liam continued. “He decided to step down because of the growing threat to our safety. That’s part of the reason I was so sympathetic to your message.”

“For which I am very grateful,” Harry added.

Liam glanced at him. “Many clans have seen the way the winds are blowing, and are choosing to prepare for invasion, not many want to stand and fight.”

“They cannot take my clan from me,” Harry growled deep in his chest. The lack of honor amongst other lairds was surprising to him and soured some of the hope in his chest that the problem with the Mackenzies would go away without a fight.

“Your passion is heartening, I must admit. Now that I have a responsibility for these people, my people, I will never abandon them.”

The kindred spirit Harry had seen in Liam grew with every passing minute. This was probably one of the only men in the Highlands that knew what Harry was going through, in excruciating familiarity.

“I’m sorry for the history between our clans,” he said, for lack of a better response.

Liam stopped and turned to fully face him. “As am I. It was born of stubborness in a time of relative peace. I can sense that we don’t have those shared temperaments, and even if we did, now is not the time for it.”

Clapping Liam on the shoulder, Harry felt the last bit of tension in his spine loosen. “Truer words, and all that.”

The afternoon faded and they talked well into the evening. Harry could tell that Liam was glad of the company as well.

Niall was the only other person Harry felt comfortable talking to this way, but there were still things he didn’t understand. He was by Harry’s side every step of the way, knew Harry himself inside and out, but until one took on the mantle of an entire clan’s survival, it was impossible to really know what that felt like.

 

Night fell, the evening meal commenced, and with it the treaty that had been formally drawn up. Liam handed it to Harry as they all gathered around the hearth.

“Please read this for yourself, but I must tell you. I’ve added a few amendments,” Liam said carefully.

The surprise of it made Harry’s heart skip. Was this, finally, the betrayal he had so dreaded when they set out on this mission? Everyone in the room was suddenly holding themselves very still.

He scanned the page until he landed on the section Liam was talking about. Oh.

Liam cleared his throat. “Harry, let me know if I’m completely overstepping, here. But I would like to do this for you.”

Harry reread the section a few more times before he searched the other faces in the room until he found the most important one at the moment.

Icy blue eyes met his across the group, and widened for a moment when Harry stopped his search and held eye contact with him. Louis was certainly an enigma, but there was one thing Harry knew about him, deep within his soul.

He would never agree to this.

“Erm. Well…” Harry stumbled over his words. On the one hand it would be extremely beneficial to his warriors. On the other hand, he didn’t want to force Louis into something that he would resent Harry for later. “As long as everyone is willing.”

Suspicion slammed behind Louis’ gaze so quickly, Harry thought he might get whiplash.

“Liam, what’s going on?” Louis asked, standing up from his place in the informal circle of council members.

“I have suggested, and Harry has agreed,” Liam started as though unaware of the maiming he was in danger of bringing down upon himself. Harry really wished he would leave him out of this conversation. “That the Edwards clan would benefit greatly if you and a few other warriors went back with them for a few months. To do intensive training with his men, and teach them to become warriors.”

Liam looked so pleased with himself for a moment, that Harry was convinced he really _didn’t_ know what he was getting himself into with his best friend.

Flames licked at Louis’ neck as though he really would combust. In the uproar following Liam’s statement, Harry took the time to watch the way Louis moved, the way he strained against pummeling his laird right then and there.

He was yelling but Harry wasn’t paying attention to the words he was saying, just to the general air of the argument.

For some reason, Liam had dug his heels in on this decision, and didn’t want to relent.

“I can’t just leave my family!” Louis exclaimed loudly.

Something inexplicable, deep in the caverns of Harry’s heart constricted at that, and he had no idea why. It was a perfectly normal reaction for a warrior; he was sure Louis had a nice, proper wife at home who was clever and capable the way he was on the surface—from what Harry could see. Louis didn’t want to leave her, no man would.

Harry scoffed to himself so as to not interrupt the argument.

“Lou.” Liam put halt to Louis’ arguing with one syllable—a nickname. Again Harry’s heart gave a little flip at the familiarity. “If you go now and train these men, they can fight with us. Side by side. Up to your standards. That way you can trust them to _protect_ your family when the time comes. It’s two more months away for a lifetime of being with them and keeping them safe.”

There was nothing Harry wanted more than a proper trainer for his men, but he still didn’t want to do anything to inadvertently force Louis’ hand, so again he stayed quiet, letting the scene play out before him.

Even though a large part of him screamed with the desire to learn what Liam meant by ‘two more months’ as opposed to just ‘two months.’

Louis glared at Liam, his ears still steaming with bottled up rage. He didn’t want to disobey Liam, that much was certain, but he was also protective of his family, and Harry had to imagine, by extension, his clan. He admired Louis’ loyalty at the very least. The rest of him remained shrouded in mystery.

“Laird, can we talk privately please?” Louis said through his teeth, his jaw clenched.

Harry bit back a smile as he watched their retreating forms leave the room. He could afford his amusement, because no matter how this discussion turned out, he won. Either Louis trained with his clan, or Liam and Louis protected his clan when the time came. Harry was walking away from their negotiation with everything he wanted, regardless of whether Louis decided to come back with him or not.


	2. Chapter 2

Steel clashed and clamored against steel as Louis deftly countered his opponent’s attack. His heart rate was up and his breathing was heavy, but his energy was beginning to flag.

Maybe if he wasn’t so damned distracted, he could concentrate on practice.

Sweat dripped down his brow despite the slight chill in the air.

 _It was warm inside the keep_ , the voice in the back of his head insisted. Louis would get frostbite before he went back inside the keep today.

It wasn’t that he was upset with Liam, per se. He had been upset earlier. The whole point of the exercises he was running with the men right now was to work out his anger and aggression on someone that wasn’t Liam. That way he didn’t run Liam through when he next saw him.

The blade of his opponent, a young man named Angus, cut through the air a little too close to Louis’ nose for comfort.

He was much too distracted for this.

Signalling to Angus to end their match early. Louis dropped his arms, pointing his longsword towards the ground, and releasing his shield to step back.

“Everything alright?” Angus asked him, his chest heaving and his brow furrowed. He was new to training, and had more energy than Louis due to his youth. Louis liked him, though, because instead of being brash and daring like his friends his age, Angus was quiet and calculating.

Louis had been a mix of both at his age, ten or so years prior. He had used his mouthiness and attitude to mask his strategic mind, because he didn’t want his opponents to know what he was capable of accomplishing.

That had mattered much more in the fields in France than it did in the mountains of the Highlands so far since Louis’ return home.

He shook himself out of his reverie before turning to Angus. “Fine. My head isn’t screwed on straight today. You can never let yourself get distracted when you’re in combat like this.” He wanted to be sure his message would sink in for him. He came in closer to Angus and placed a hand on his shoulder, drawing him in closer. “I have the luxury of stopping this exercise because I’m the one running it, and I’m the boss. But you won’t be able to do that on the battlefield. Do I make myself clear?”

Angus nodded solemnly, absorbing the wisdom Louis has to offer. Louis clapped him once on the shoulder for good measure. “Good lad.”

He pushed the boy towards where the other warriors were in the midst of their own hand-to-hand exercises. They would finish soon and Angus would be able to join someone else. Someone much less useless than Louis was feeling at the moment.

Louis watched the boy walk away before turning around to head back in to the keep.

What he saw made him stop short. Liam was leaning against the outside wall watching practice. Waiting for him.

Liam was the last person Louis wanted to see at the moment.

“What do you want, Liam?” Louis asked, walking briskly past his best friend— _former_ best friend.

“Going is the right thing to do and you know it.”

They would be continuing their argument from earlier, then.

There was no possible way Liam would be able to convince Louis to pick up his life and move to Clan Edwards for two months to train their good for nothing warriors under their soft little baby laird who has had everything handed to him in life and doesn’t know the value of hard work. No. He wasn’t going.

Louis kept walking with no particular destination in mind. “I’m not going.”

“Louis,” Liam warned.

“It’s not happening.” Now would be the perfect time to visit his mother. He hasn’t seen her yet today, and he was sure she would appreciate the visit.

Louis turned on his heel and headed in the direction of his mother’s cottage.

“Your mother isn’t there.”

That made Louis stop short. How did Liam know that? “How do you know that?”

The grass rustled as his best friend— _former_ best friend—came forward to join him. “Because of the visit, she’s up at the keep watching the children because we needed the other women to help out in other areas.”

Louis rolled his eyes. Selfless, and didn’t that sound just like his mother. She was probably the only person who would have lent him a sympathetic ear. He had no one left to complain to, then.

“Well, then where are the children, laird?” Louis emphasized the respectful title to make sure Liam knew he was being very disrespectful.

“We’ll get to that in a moment.” There was a new edge to Liam’s voice. “I want to know why you sent Oli ahead to talk to Harry.”

“Harry, is it?” Louis asked, raising his eyebrows and being willfully insolent.

Liam glared at him to try and force him to answer. He knew he would cave and tell Liam eventually, but it was more fun to delay the inevitable.

“Louis, I’m serious. They thought Zayn was dead.”

Suddenly, Louis understood the problem very well. He knew his best friend had developed a special relationship with the trader from Clan Edwards, and had decided to trust him blindly. Louis wasn’t so trusting. That was why he sent Oli.

“I wanted to be sure your message reached the Edwards. I know the relationship with his clan means a lot to you,” he replied.

“So, the fact that I sent Zayn with the message meant nothing?” The hurt was evident in Liam’s voice.

Louis stayed silent as Liam scrutinized his expression.

“Come on, Lou.” Liam was exasperated, Louis could tell. But he was also alive, having signed a treaty with the Edwards.

“What more do you want from me?” Louis asked petulantly.

“A little trust might be nice,” Liam replied.

Louis looked over both of his shoulders. “It’s not you that I don’t trust.”

The tension in Liam’s body relaxed a bit as he threw his arm around Louis’ shoulders and led him back towards the keep. “I know that. I owe my life to your protective nature, but I have chosen to put my faith in Harry and in Zayn.”

Louis knew that, he did, but that didn’t mean he was going to give up trying to protect him and keep him alive.

They walked the remainder of the distance in contemplative silence. Over the crest of the hill, Louis could see a group of children including his youngest siblings, and his mother sitting in the grass next to them where they all played. The sight was one he would never grow tired of, no matter where he was or how long he lived.

“I know it’s hard to leave them again,” Liam said softly. “And I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I had any other choice.” He paused then, his desperation and the anticipation of what he was about to say hanging in the air. “I need your help, Louis. No one else can do this, and do it well.”

That was it. The killer blow Louis had been waiting for the whole time. He was absolutely weak for Liam, and Liam knew it, too.

“Fine,” he bit out, his tone flinty. “Two months. Not a day more.”

Louis could practically feel Liam’s smile when it permeated the air around them.

“Thank you!” he said loudly and enthusiastically in Louis’ ear, jostling him and pulling him in close for a half hug.

Louis pushed him away. “Get off,” he griped.

“This is a cause for celebration,” Liam cried out. “They should be setting up for the evening meal, let’s go in early.”

He pressed his large hand flat against Louis’ back in an attempt to lead him where he wanted to go. Louis didn’t exactly put up resistance, but he didn’t make it easy on him either.

They entered the great hall, and Louis was relieved to see that it was empty. He and Liam sat down at the head table even though it was bare. One of Louis’ younger sisters Felicite appeared suddenly from the kitchen with two mugs of ale in her hand before they even had a chance to settle themselves.

“Were you watching for us?” Louis joked.

Instead of answering, or politely going back into the kitchen, Felicite pulled out a chair from the table and sat down in it facing Louis. “Are you leaving?”

Her tone was light and curious but there was more behind her eyes, a twinge of hurt, if Louis wasn’t mistaken.

“Yeah,” he croaked out. As weak as he was for Liam, he was even weaker for his little sisters. He really didn’t know where his tough as nails warrior reputation came from.

She stared him down for a few more heart beats. “Alright.”

With that, she got up and walked back to the kitchens, and Louis was left with more questions than ever. “Alright?” he asked Liam.

Liam only shrugged and drank his ale. Useless.

Again, he and Liam sat in silence. It was nice, this, sitting with him and relaxing. They didn’t have much occasion for that, normally. Liam was too busy being laird and training, and Louis was too busy training the rest of his warriors.

Felicite came back out of the kitchens a few minutes later with the rest of the serving women and began laying the head table as well as the other bare tables in their immediate vicinity. She kept shooting unreadable looks in Louis’ direction.

Just as they were finishing, other people began to file in to begin the meal. The air changed around them, and Louis looked up to see Zayn and the Edwards coming in to join them at the head table.

The look Zayn sent him was frosty to say the least. He probably should apologize for the mix up, but that was never going to happen.

Louis let his gaze drift just beyond him to the Edwards. Harry. His body was long and lithe, but it was as though he wasn’t taught how to use it properly. Gangly limbs and curly hair flew everywhere all the time, even when he had it back in a plait.

Louis hadn’t decided how he felt about the Edwards yet. He didn’t trust him, that was certain. All the man had to do was be a part of Clan Edwards for that to be the case.

“Everything cleared up?” Zayn asked as he faltered at the seat next to Liam. Technically, Harry—the Edwards—was supposed to sit in that seat as Liam’s honored guest. Every other time Zayn had come to visit, he had been invited to sit there. He was outranked this time, Louis thought as he smirked into his ale. Hah.

The Edwards smirked as well as he made his way around the table. Too late, Louis realized that meant he was going to have to sit next to him. Not wanting to be trapped in conversation with just him all night, he was swift to get up and move one chair down.

The other laird made brief eye contact with him as he pulled out the chair and took the seat between Liam at the head table and Louis on his left. Again, too late, Louis looked to the person at his own left only to find an empty chair. The other warriors and council members had all started to tuck into their food, and all Louis could do was send up a prayer that someone would come and relieve him soon.

There was a murmur over his shoulder. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Louis turned sharply, and was met with an all too close up view of the Edwards’ bright green rounded doe eyes. The man was a _warrior,_ it was disconcerting that he also looked like he would be at home weaving flowers through his hair at his dressing table. Maybe he was, for all Louis knew.

“You’re…” Louis started, but the thought flew out of his head. That very well could have been a blessing.

“Sorry, I meant, it’s your rightful place. Honored guest. Head of the table.” Louis gestured loosely to the places around them. “It wouldn’t be proper if I let you sit anywhere else.”

He said the last bit a little louder hoping to make his feelings on the matter clear to Zayn who was deep in conversation with Liam, leaving Louis abandoned to entertain the other laird.

An awkward silence fell between them.

Louis must have thought of half a dozen ways to start the conversation, but he couldn’t manage to force out a single one of them. He was saved by Felicite bringing out a large trencher of venison. He had never been more glad to see his sister in all his life.

She placed the food down in front of them, and turned away from the table, but not before tugging at Louis’ ear. His response was over exaggerated and comical, the way he would have responded to his youngest siblings instead of Felicite, but it was worth it for the pink tinge on her cheeks as she walked away. Louis had a tendency to overcompensate when he knew he was going to leave them for a long period of time.

“Do you know her?” the laird asked.

Louis froze, he had forgotten him for a moment. “Um, yes.” he cleared his throat. “That’s my sister.”

“Oh,” the Edwards said with new understanding, craning his neck to see if he could spot Felicite again. Louis wasn’t sure how comfortable he was with the laird being so interested in his sisters.

“She’s nineteen,” Louis added flatly, but it made him wince when he heard himself. Nineteen was a perfectly marriageable age. It was actually more odd that Felicite wasn’t already married when he thought about it too much, which he tried not to do.

“Lovely,” the laird said as he reached for a hunk of venison and began pulling apart the tender meat. “Do you have any other siblings?” he asked through a mouthful of food.

Louis filled his own plate, but reached for a hunk of crusty bread instead. “Six others.”

The laird chewed thoughtfully. “Quite a large family. Are they all here?” he looked around the great hall as though Louis’ siblings would pop up and start identifying themselves.

“Yes, all. My sister Lottie is married, she’s sitting over with her husband. My mother doesn’t take her meals up here very often.” He wasn’t sure what business it was of the lairds if his family was on Sutherland clan land or not, but Louis would play nice for the time being. In a short time, he would be depending on the laird for his livelihood. It wouldn’t do to be shut out before he even arrived at the other clan. “It’s difficult as the youngest twins are only six years old.”

“That’s a shame,” the laird said, his cheeks puffed out with his own bread. “Would have loved to meet the little ones.”

Louis stared at him for a moment. The laird wanted to meet the children? He hadn’t asked any more questions about Felicite, but he could also be angling to get to know her better.

“No you don’t,” Louis blurt out. The laird looked up at him, startled. “They’re… they’re hellraisers.” he added, attempting to joke. Anything to make this conversation less awkward.

The laird laughed, even though it was twinged with pity. “That’s fair.”

The conversation died again and they both went back to concentrating on their food. Louis didn’t want to say too much, because he didn’t trust him, but since the laird had been on their land he had been nothing but kind. He wasn’t the one who had asked Louis to leave his home. It was very clear in their council meeting that he was just as surprised as Louis had been when Liam wrote that little addendum into the treaty between the two clans.

Louis’ very nature was to be overly cautious, that was something that came not with training, but with being thrust into a situation where he hadn’t had anyone to turn to in his time of need. When he had left home for the first time with nothing but the clothes on his back and an inherent need to leave his home and his clan.

For the second time that day, Louis ripped himself back from the dark corners of his mind and the harsh grip of the past. He was past that. He didn’t need those memories today of all days, but he wasn’t surprised that they had been dredged up with the way history seemed to repeat itself.

While he was somewhere deep in the past, it seemed Liam had come up for air in his talk with Zayn and was finally entertaining his actual guest. There was some relief to be found now that he no longer had to continue to carry the conversation between them, but there was also a small part of Louis that was somewhat… disappointed to not have the laird’s full attention on him once again.

Louis hadn’t craved someone’s attention like that in years, since he was young and brash and fifteen-years-old vying for attention from his trainer at the time and all his fellow warriors. The energy had continued to build up inside him every day as he spun haphazardly through life until he finally lost control.

To have those feelings resurface was worrying to say the least given everything else that had been brought up so far during the day.

Before he could think about what he was doing, he pushed his chair back from the table, scraping the wooden legs loudly against the stone floor causing a ruckus.

“I need to go,” he said abruptly, unable to tamp down his emotions anymore. They were bubbling, climbing up his throat, threatening to spill out if he opened his mouth again.

His vision was beginning to grow fuzzy around the edges as he stood up and walked out of the great hall. He could feel a few stares, but mostly everyone went back to eating their meals, and he could hear the din raise again back to it’s normal level as he exited that wing of the keep headed for his mother’s cottage.

The torches burned in the towers, but he hadn’t brought one with him, so everything was black as pitch as he made his way along the well worn path to his mother’s residence. He didn’t need light to clamber his way through the darkness until the warm light of her cottage appeared, leaking through the edges of the furs on the windows.

He would never forget the first time he sent a parcel home with the finest furs he could find after he had received his commission. Nothing else had rivaled that feeling since.

The old Sutherland laird was good, and had provided for them all well enough, but what Louis sent home was still nicer than anything his mother would have been able to purchase. Now that he was grown and providing for himself, Louis never wanted her to go without again.

All he needed to do was keep reminding himself that he had provided from across oceans, and he could certainly continue doing so from only a day’s ride away. It certainly wasn’t far enough to warrant this reaction from him at all.

He would only be a day’s ride away. Only a day’s ride. As long as he kept repeating it to himself, he stood a chance of getting used to the idea one day.

When he finally approached the door, he gave it a firm knock. Shrieks rang out and he could hear the sound of his siblings as they came running towards the front of the cottage. He opened the door and greeted the youngest twins Doris and Ernie in turn before his mother yelled to bring them back to their chores for the evening.

“Hello,” Louis rasped out. The emotional upheaval he had experienced at various points throughout the day all came flooding back as he entered his mother’s hearth and collapsed on a waiting chair.

“Darling,” his mother cooed as she threaded his hands through his hair once before stoking the fire and sitting down next to him. “What’s upset you?”

Louis blew out a breath. “I have to go,” he said resignedly. He knew she would have heard by then, and he didn’t feel like beating around the bush.

“I know, it’s very exciting,” she said as she clapped her hands together over her lap.

He gaped at her. “Exciting?” It was as though she didn’t remember a single thing from the past decade of their lives.

“Well, yes,” she said.

“Mother,” he started, but he didn’t quite know how to encapsulate everything he had felt throughout the day, or the last twelve years if he was being honest.

She cooed at him for a moment and Louis let the blush roll through his body. If only his trainees could see him now being coddled by his mother in the warm embrace of her hearth and home. It was the opposite of everything he taught them to be, but he could recognize that he needed this sort of treatment today.

“Louis,” she covered his hands with one of her own. “I know what this feels like for you, I do. But this is nothing like before. Back then, you were young, you didn’t know which end was up or what you were doing. Look at the man you’ve become,” she pleaded with him.

Louis squeezed his eyes shut and took a few deep breaths.

“We’ll be fine,” his mother continued, her voice soft and soothing near his ear as she began to allay his fears. “I have John now. We are provided for, and that will not change over the course of two months.”

Worry started to bubble up as Louis thought about the reason he needed to leave in the first place. “But the Mackenzie’s—”

“Your army will be here, even if you will not. A commander’s army is an extension of himself. If he has taught them well, which we both know you have, there is nothing for you to worry about,” she added with a hardness now lacing the undertones of her voice. “Those men are even more loyal to you than they are to Liam. It might almost be concerning if the laird was anyone other than Liam,” she added.

“They are loyal to you, and they are loyal to this clan. They will not let anything happen to us,” her eyes pleaded with him to believe her.

“I know,” he sighed, his voice small and reedy.

She leaned back a bit and relaxed her posture. “Good. Now, think of how interesting it will be to live with a new clan for a period of time. Will you bring me back a woven rug? I hear they make beautiful things.”

Again, Louis gaped at her. She had asked him for a token of his training mission the same way she used to ask him to bring in some eggs from the coop when he was a boy.

“Of course,” he replied by rote, still too flabbergasted to think much of it.

She patted him on the back and then enlisted his help to finish the little one’s chores as her husband John was still up at the keep.

Later, when he was getting ready to return to his bedroom in the main building, she stopped him at the door and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m so very proud of you,” she said solemnly, letting everything that remained unsaid hover in the air between them.

Louis nodded and returned the gesture before once again heading out into the inky black night.

 

The next day at training, he learned that they were to leave on the morrow.

“That’s certainly not very much time,” he said loudly and pointedly in Liam’s vicinity.

The Edwards cleared his throat. “I’m eager to get back to my clan,” he said. His tone was lilting and slow, but the directive behind somehow managed to be heard loud and clear. He did not want to wait, and would not suffer any delays.

Well, that was that then. When they broke for the morning meal, Louis declared that if there were any volunteers willing to come with them to Clan Edwards, they were to approach him no later than when he retired that evening after the meal.

A young man named Declan, whom Louis didn’t know all that well as he was new to training, approached him first.

“I’d go to the other clan,” the lad said with his arms crossed and his chest puffed out as he stared down his nose at Louis.

Louis had learned a lot in his time in various armies, but the main skill he acquired, was how to read his fellow soldiers. Those men held his life in their hands, he needed to be able to tell who he could trust with that life—it was part of what made him so slow to thaw with someone new.

The main tell in choosing a comrade, was the difference between false bravado, and outright cockiness. False bravado, meant the man was unsure of his own abilities, but unafraid to do what needed to be done when it came down to it. This was the man to trust because he was always on his guard.

Outright cockiness, on the other hand, was incredibly risky to let fester amongst a unit of soldiers. A man who genuinely believed that he could take on an army by himself was not the man to give control. A man who had blind faith in his own abilities, didn’t account for human error or human frailty. He didn’t account for the basic human instinct of doing anything if it meant survival.

This young boy of eighteen, was cocky. Louis wouldn’t reward that with what the lad probably thought was a grand adventure and his ticket out of his clan.

There was no way he was going out on the roads—with the political climate of the Highlands being what it was—with anyone he couldn’t trust explicitly.

“I’ll add your name to the list, lad, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up. I’m looking to take seasoned warriors who have something to teach their soldiers,” Louis replied, hoping to play on his superiority complex.

Declan frowned, “I’m the best in my class,” he said pointing to where his friends were gathered, watching them.

Angus was standing with them, but back a few paces with a frown on his face and a furrowed brow. _Interesting_ , Louis thought.

“I’m sure you’re very talented, lad, but learned skill has no match for experience. Now, if I wasn’t sure in my decision not to take you before, I am now. I’m not looking for insolence. I’m looking for loyalty,” Louis bit out.

Sometimes he could feel his mother in the back of his head telling him he was too hard on the lads, but then he would flashback to battlefields littered with bodies, soaking the ground red. There was no room for coddling warriors. Not when it meant life or death.

Declan turned back to his friends and walked away only to stop and thrust the point of his sword as far as it would go into the ground and leave it there before he continued walking.

Louis made a mental note to take it away for his next bout against an opponent. A longsword coming at him with no offense only defense would teach the boy not to throw a strop with his sword and treat it like a toy.

“Turning away good men?” the Edwards asked from somewhere over his shoulder. There was a sardonic edge to his tone that told Louis he had been watching the entire exchange.

Louis eyed him warily as he came forward to stand on the same plane next to him. He made a show of scoffing and nodding towards the field where some other men had begun their drills for the day. “They’ll never learn until they know disappointment.”

The Edwards crossed his arms and sat into his hips a bit. Louis couldn’t help but notice out of the corner of his eye that the pose was an odd shape. Had he never been taught proper posture?

“That’s very true,” he said mock seriously as though he was making fun of Louis. Louis couldn’t even remember what the question had been.

“You laugh,” he said gravely. “But these men are coming to teach your men.”

That sobered the other laird very quickly. “You’re right,” he murmured. There was another pregnant pause. That seemed to happen a lot with them, and Louis was at a loss as to why. “Thank you for doing this.”

The laird had murmured again, for Louis’ ears only.

“For gathering volunteers?” Louis asked, playing dumb as he continued to watch his men without any real direction.

“No,” the laird angled his body towards Louis, away from the practice field. “More than that, for coming even though you weren’t given much of a choice.”

The statement was so earnest and genuine that Louis was startled into silence. The Edwards must have realized he was uncomfortable because he too turned back to the field.

“Do you think you’ll get anyone?” he asked with a hint of worry betraying him in his voice.

“Yes,” Louis said. He had already spoken to a few after the news first broke. “I know these men. There are a few,” he pointed across the field. “They’re getting older, nearing retirement from combat, I should say. But they’re experienced, loyal, wise, and I would trust them with my life any day.”

“Why have they not come forward?” the laird asked.

“If I know them as well as I say I do…” Louis paused for dramatic effect. “I would guess they all have to ask their wives before volunteering or risk becoming eunuchs instead.”

There was silence for the briefest moment before the laird honked out a sharp laugh, the likes of which Louis had never heard before. It was quickly smothered when the laird clapped his hand over his mouth to hold the rest of the sound in to keep it from escaping.

A few of the men stopped their exercises when they heard it, searching around for the source of the noise, but Louis waved them all off and they cautiously turned back around. He kept a mental tally and would tell those few off later for letting themselves get distracted easily.

When he turned back, the laird was gone.

That had been interesting to say the least. Every time Louis thought he had the Edwards’ laird figured out, he managed to surprise him.

The man intrigued him, and that worried Louis. He thought back to the day before when the laird’s attention was taken off him and transferred to Liam, and the feelings that he had dug up deep in his conscience. It was unsettling. _He_ was unsettling.

That was more than enough reason for Louis to try and stay away from the laird moving forward. Theoretically, once they made it to the Edwards keep, he would be dealing much more frequently with Niall, the laird’s much more affable commander, and wouldn’t have to deal with the man himself very much.

That was ideal for Louis. He would be perfectly content to never interact with the laird ever again once they left Sutherland lands.

 

In the end, the men Louis had been waiting on were allowed to come with him, but only after he gave them a good old fashioned ribbing.

“Just wait until yer married, Louis. Then tell me how much of a weakling I am,” Graeme cackled as he took in Louis’ stricken face.

Dawn was only just breaking and it was entirely too early for this sort of nonsense.

“Never mind that, let’s get a move on!” Louis cried out across the group of men that were gathered near the stables getting their horses tacked up and ready to go for the day’s journey.

Liam had pulled Louis aside that morning as he was handed off a packet of supplies from the cook.

“I appreciate this more than you know, Louis,” he murmured under his breath.

Louis scoffed at him. “You better.”

“The second you see anything you don’t like, or you’re uncomfortable with, you let me know,” Liam ordered.

Understanding the gravity of what he was saying, Louis agreed without comment. There was still a very real possibility that traveling to the Edwards clan could result in treachery. Louis was getting himself into a potentially very dangerous situation, and he may not come home.

As though the thought conjured them, his mother and his two oldest sisters appeared in the morning mist. He’d said goodbye to the babies the night before when he left his mother’s house.

“Bye, Louis,” his mother said after he doled out a round of bear hugs. “Remember what I told you. We’ll be alright, darling.”

Louis took a deep breath and said the rest of his goodbyes to his sisters and Oli quickly before turning around to mount his horse.

Once he was seated, he double checked all of his packs and made sure everything was secure one final time before he called for the men to head out. A part of him wanted to bring Oli with him. His fellow warrior was his friend from birth and one of the only people Louis truly trusted to carry out dangerous missions, but he needed someone to stay and train their men in his stead. Oli was the natural choice.

The Edwards was the only one ready and matched him stride for stride as they turned towards the outer boundary of Sutherland land. They would be accompanied by a guard until they made it to the watchtowers, where they would split off and continue down the road.

Their whole party which consisted of the Edwards, Zayn, Niall, and Louis’ men Graeme and Stephen, made their way silently in deference to the quiet serenity of the morning. With jagged rock silhouetted harshly against the Highland sunrise, the land was trying it’s best to lure Louis into staying—it had never looked more beautiful to him than in this moment.

He was doing this for the good of the clan.

All he had to do was remind himself of that every day until he could return.

When they reached the border, the guards split off from them as they turned to replace the men that would watch them as they left, but to Louis’ surprise, the Edwards, Niall, and Zayn came to a full stop and formed a small group.

Louis looked to Graeme and Stephen, but they seemed just as confused as he was.

The three spoke quietly amongst themselves, before Niall grasped Zayn’s shoulder and said goodbye.

Louis wasn’t aware the trader would be leaving them, but he wasn’t sure why he didn’t think of it sooner. He was a trader, his life was on the road, it made perfect sense.

No one said anything further as they once again split off. Now, it was just the Edwards and Niall, and Louis with his two men. There was a small part of Louis that realized making the party uneven was a show of trust from the Edwards, an olive branch in a way.

But Louis was going to be bored out of his mind if they continued to ride on in silence. His men were both the strong, silent types, but at the very least Niall didn’t strike him as that sort of man.

“A very lively party we’ve got,” Louis announced brashly.

Surprising Louis for the second time that morning, the Edwards was the only one to react with a giant snort as though he was laying in wait for Louis to say something. It wasn’t quite the honk he got the day before, but Louis would take it.

Niall threw his head back and laughed. “Barrel of laughs we are.”

The entire atmosphere relaxed after that, Louis having broken the ice successfully. He and Niall started to talk to each other, mostly about training, while Graeme and Stephen chimed in every so often with their own commentary.

The Edwards, however, stayed quiet. The laird continued to stay quiet for most of the day, only answering when spoken to, and generally keeping to himself. Louis found himself startling every time he unexpectedly heard the deep rasp of his voice and the slow, syrupy way it danced over the words he chose to say.

Setting up camp was a seamless process. Louis noticed that Niall insisted on sleeping next to the laird, and it instantly ratcheted up Louis’ respect for him as he would have done the same for Liam, but it planted a seed of speculation into Louis’ mind about the nature of their relationship. Everything so far indicated that they were just best friends the way he and Liam were, and it wasn’t as though those sort of relationships were common. Louis would just have to wait and see what they were like when they reached their home.

The fire from their evening meal had died down and Louis threw some dirt over it so it wouldn’t attract predators either of the animal or the human variety in the night. He was to take first watch in the night, so he wrapped his plaid around him and sat up against the trunk of a large tree near the clearing where they stopped.

When his watch was over, Niall nudged him and motioned for him to get some sleep. Louis was wary of all three of the Sutherland men sleeping at the same time, but Niall had offered to split up the watch, and Louis had to be very careful about the things he fought and the things he let roll off his back. He was a light sleeper anyway.

 

Morning dawned clear and bright, putting them only a few hours away from the Edwards keep, as far as Niall said.

Given that they woke up that morning without having been murdered, Louis should have been feeling more relaxed than he was. Something was in the air, he could feel it. He had always gotten a sense of unease, a sort of sense about danger. It was what made him such a good warrior.

They had hardly been on the road for thirty minutes before he couldn’t stand it any more.

“Have you got anything other than your plaid?” he asked Niall and the Edwards bluntly, piercing through the silence.

They both looked at him with wide eyes.

“You mean, take it off?” Niall asked, clearly catching on to what Louis meant before the laird did.

“Yeah,” he said curtly. The laird reached into his pack and pulled out a cloak with a lambswool lining. It was extravagant, but might be better than the plaid. “That’ll do.”

“Why?” the laird asked as both he and Niall began to unwrap their plaids from around them. Louis winced in sympathy as the laird’s skin broke out in chill bumps when it hit the crisp autumn air.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea for a small party to be riding under two different banners so openly.”

“Hmm,” Niall replied, but he too pulled out something else to wrap around him from his pack.

Their much sobered party rode on, dropping into the silence of the day before. Louis cursed that he had been the one to put a damper on the day, but he couldn’t quell his instincts. They were what got him through many scrapes and allowed him to live to tell the tale.

They weren’t far from Edwards land on the main road when they saw the other riders. There was nothing untoward about the small group, but they too rode without plaids to indicate what clan they were.

Nothing happened, and the two parties passed by each other without incident, but Louis still couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. There had to be a reason this was happening so close to Edwards land. In hindsight, he and Graeme and Stephen should have been the ones to go without their plaids so they didn’t look out of place, but what was done was done.

There was very little doubt in Louis’ mind that the riders were Mackenzie. They had to be.

Louis didn’t think attack was imminent, he agreed with both Liam and the Edwards on that front, but that didn’t mean they weren’t doing reconnaissance before the time came.

They would be remiss to attack a somewhat powerful clan like Clan Edwards any time before winter. There was no guarantee they would be able to survive the harsh temperatures or use the position at all strategically before the spring.

“Were they…” the Edwards left his question unasked hanging in the air between them. He was much closer to Louis than he had originally thought, so hearing his voice made him jump a bit. Louis was meant to keep a cool head at all times. It wouldn’t do for the laird to spike his heart rate this way so often.

“I think so, aye.” Louis calculated the distance to their destination in his head. At most they only had a few hours left, but he was concerned, now, about their safety. “It will take us a few more hours, but I think we should take a detour around the ridge instead of trapping ourselves in the pass up ahead.”

Their party murmured amongst themselves and he knew they thought him to be overly cautious, but the experience had spooked them all enough that they agreed.

Hours later after they had taken their detour and were back on track, Louis turned to the Edwards who looked as though he was going to bolt at any moment. “I would rather give into paranoia than rush back to comfort.”

The Edwards chewed his bottom lip, a nervous tic that in turn made Louis nervous. He had to tighten his hands on the reins to physically keep himself from reaching out and forcing him to release it.

“We’re almost home,” was the laird’s only response.

 _Your home_ , Louis thought with only a touch of bitterness.

 

When they veered off the road and emerged from the tree line into the open field, Louis could see _Dun Muir Òir_ in the distance. It was a beautiful structure, and certainly different from _Beinn Ghlass_. Zayn had told him about it before, but it was something else to see it.

The way it was set up, looming above the wheat fields reminded Louis of the Gallic region, and there was an odd sort of comfort in the familiarity.

They had ridden far longer than expected and the sun was setting, so they were bound to arrive in the midst of the evening meal by the time they got settled. As they drew nearer to the structure, a crotchety old man appeared out of the twilight.

In the time that Louis had known the Edwards, he hadn’t seen him truly smile, but when he greeted this old man, his whole face brightened with the force of it. The fire from the torches at the entrance to the stable glowed, bouncing off the contours of his face. Louis had to force himself to look away.

All of the Edwards warriors began to dismount, so Louis and his men did as well. Stable hands appeared in the same mysterious way their master did, taking their horses away swiftly to rest.

“Arthur will take care of them,” the Edwards murmured.

Startled, Louis turned towards him, but glanced back towards the horses quickly. Once again, the light was much too flattering. He cleared his throat, “I have no doubt. You have a strong bond with your horse, and I can only assume you wouldn’t entrust her care to anyone that was less than worthy.”

“Oh, erm. Yes. Thank you.” The Edwards stammered over his words, visibly thrown off by the compliment.

Louis had been cold to him since they set out, but he had mulled it over during their ride and he came to the realization that it was neither of their faults that he was in this position. If Louis had been a laird faced with the same choice: a gifted trainer and warrior on a silver platter, he too would have taken it. Liam offered, the Edwards took. Had Louis not been involved in the equation, he would have thought the laird to be too proud and arrogant if he had refused.

He had already resolved to be friendlier to the Edwards, but what the laird said next cemented it.

“I’m exhausted, and I can only assume you all are as well,” he said addressing all of the men, Edwards and Sutherland alike. “Unless anyone would be more comfortable taking their meal in the great hall, I shall show everyone to their rooms and have meals and hot baths sent up behind us.”

Louis almost collapsed under the weight of his gratitude. “Thank you, laird.”

“Harry, if it’s all the same, I'm going to go to the evening meal,” Niall called out from just inside the entrance to the stables.

The Edwards’ eyes lit up and his face transformed into an entirely boyish smirk. “Are you sure, Niall? I can’t imagine what draw the hall would have for you after a long journey.”

Niall stared at him stone faced and blinking for a few heartbeats before turning around and taking off in the other direction. The Edwards, filled with glee, let out a maniacal laugh that was higher in pitch than Louis expected given the timbre of his voice. It was adorable.

Once the men had calmed down and made quite a few ribald comments at Niall’s retreating back, Harry began to lead the way into the keep.

Louis leaned in a bit closer to the Edwards, “Does Niall have a sweetheart?”

In the close proximity, he involuntarily let himself be engulfed by the laird’s earthy scent. They all had ridden all day, the laird should smell completely rank, but instead the sharp tang of sweat made Louis’ mouth water. Under the guise of stretching out his back and neck, Louis put some distance between them again.

“He most certainly does,” Harry replied, his smirk returning. “Aileen. We all grew up together. She’s my head serving woman.”

“Ah,” Louis nodded in recognition. “And do you have a sweetheart, laird?” The idle question came out automatically, but as soon as he asked it, something lodged at the base of Louis’ throat. Lairds didn’t have sweethearts, they had arranged marriages and even if the Edwards had one, it was absolutely none of Louis’ business. Truly.

His question sobered the Edwards as well. “No. I’m not afforded the luxury I’m afraid.”

“Right,” Louis replied awkwardly.

“Here we are,” the Edwards said, breaking the moment. “Graeme and Stephen, your rooms are here,” he said pointing to the two open doorways. Louis was surprised they had enough rooms to hold all of them for an extended period of time.

The keep was fairly modest from what Louis could see of it in the waning light, but the space was used efficiently. It was much different than the winding towers and nooks and crannies of _Beinn_ _Ghlass_.

Graeme and Stephen gave their thanks, and the Edwards nodded for Louis to continue with him. The little voice in the back of his head that had saved his hide more than once in his life told Louis that it was odd he would be separated from his men, but to his relief he was just around the corner from them.

“This is your room, Tomlinson,” the laird said, leading Louis inside. “Please tell me if there is anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable.”

The laird’s wide eyes were looking at Louis expectantly, but Louis had nothing to request. The fire was lit, giving off a warm glow of heat and light, and the whole room was lush with furs and textiles the likes of which Louis had never seen before. While the keep was modest, it was evident that this was where the wealth of Clan Edwards laid.

Louis breathed a sigh of relief. Up until the moment he saw his room, there had been a tiny sliver of doubt in his mind that the Edwards could provide what he offered to Liam and their clan. Given the freedom with which they adorned their guest rooms, it was clear that they had an abundance of material goods to trade.

“Thank you, laird. I am content for now. The mattress is inviting, but I will wait until the meal and hot bath arrive.”

The laird studied him for another moment. “Very well. I thought tomorrow morning after breaking our fast we might take an official tour of the keep if that’s agreeable.”

Louis agreed, and the laird bid him goodnight.

As soon as he made his way towards the door to leave Louis to his privacy, three maids arrived. One with a trencher and two with a steaming pail of water.

The Edwards immediately took the hot, heavy pail from the women and placed it next to the fire so that it might retain some warmth. The maids curtsied to them and left the room.

“Ask and you shall receive,” the laird grinned at him one last time before following them out the door. The man was entirely too charming for his own good.

Louis stripped down quickly, aiming to take advantage of the hot water before it cooled to ease the general aches and pains of the day. As he was poised to climb into the small bucket, he glanced at the fireplace where there amongst the flames was a basalt stone that was as smooth as glass and must be piping hot. Louis sent up a prayer of thanks and grabbed the tongs to take it out of the fire and place it gently in the bottom of the tub.

He would be cramped, but it was just big enough that he should be able to fold himself up into it.

Once the water absorbed most of the heat of the basalt stone, Louis climbed in and did just that. His sore muscles hit the warmth one by one, instantly relaxing them. With his body weight, the water rose to the very lip of the tub, but he would suffer a wet floor for the way it spread around his lower back.

After he settled for a moment and went through his ablutions, Louis let his mind wander.

He hadn’t seen much of the keep, he would see more in the morning light, and he had no idea what sort of shape the warriors were in, but so far he was beginning to think his sojourn at Clan Edwards wouldn’t be as bad as he had built it up to be in his head.

 

Louis’ opinion didn’t change on the morrow. Their first meal with the clan was good, Graeme and Stephen were being afforded the same hospitality that Louis was, and they were all offered honored places at the head table. His men didn’t take the offer, instead taking their meal with the Edwards’ warriors in an attempt to introduce themselves more casually before training officially began.

As their de facto leader and ambassador, Louis couldn’t do the same, but he watched them throughout the meal. There was a little stiffness at having someone unfamiliar amongst the men, but that was to be expected and everyone seemed to relax as the meal continued.

The Edwards stood up and announced Louis and his men officially and explained what their purpose was in staying with Clan Edwards. Louis admired how open and frank he was about what they were doing there; not all leaders would let their clan be privy to business at such a level. Another leader also might have used their need for a trainer against them in a derogatory way, but that wasn’t the message either.

Every minute Louis spent with the Edwards his respect for the other man continued to grow, and he couldn’t have been happier to be proven wrong.

Throughout the meal, Louis was introduced to all of the members of the Edwards’ council including his mother, Anne. She was warm and welcoming, which put him at ease.

Observing the room, he could tell that there was very little tension in the air between different groups of people. The Edwards explained when he introduced her that his mother was in charge of all of the fibre goods that they produced as a clan, which Louis now understood to be their livelihood. As a man with a strong mother and six sisters, whenever he met someone new, he always judged them based on how they treated the people around them. Between Anne and Aileen, whom he also naturally met over the course of the meal, it was obvious to him that Clan Edwards valued their women.

He prided himself on his instinct about people—that was what kept him alive—and always kept a level of guard up when he was somewhere unfamiliar and outmanned, but so far nothing about this clan had set off any warning bells.

 

After the meal, the Edwards and his mother offered to take him and his men on a tour of the keep.

“Lead the way, laird,” Louis nodded.

They only got a few feet before the laird stopped in his tracks. “You’re staying with us for two months, and I can only hope our relationship will get less formal for everyone’s comfort. Please, call me Harry.”

Something burned in Louis’ bloodstream and lodged in his throat, the same feeling that had overwhelmed him when he asked the laird—Harry—if he had a sweetheart the night before. “Very well.”

“Good,” Harry replied as the corner of his mouth ticked up briefly before his expression relaxed back into something more serious.

The tour was much more succinct than their tour of the _Beinn_ _Ghlass_ had been, partly because Liam wasn’t there for laird to laird time, and this was a bit more functional than formal and diplomatic.

When they passed the weaving annex, Louis mentioned that he might like to bring a rug back for his mother. Anne’s eyes lit up, and she immediately began grilling him about what sort of size and color it should be. He was amazed with the saturation of color they got from the herbs and dyes they collected that weren’t used as widely at Clan Sutherland aside from the creation of their plaids. He said as much, and mentioned that he had no idea what color she would prefer. Anne assured him she would pick something out for his mother.

The rest of the tour passed quickly and before he knew it, it was time for them all to join the training exercises so Louis could see where he was starting out with their soldiers.

“We’re not as well trained as your men,” the laird explained, as though that wasn’t why Louis was there in the first place. He was nervous, and Louis fought the urge to place his hand on his arm to soothe him and put him at ease.

Instead Louis stiffened his posture and looked out over the field where the day’s exercises had been under way for quite awhile. “Let’s see,” he said.

Niall called the men to attention.

“This is Louis Tomlinson from Clan Sutherland. Many of you have heard this already, no doubt at the morning meal, but he will be taking over your training from now on. I will still be here assisting him, but you will listen and report to him,” Niall stepped back to indicate he was done.

Louis took a deep breath before stepping forward to take his place. He hated public speaking. “Very well, thank you, Niall.”

“I would like to start off with hand to hand duels to see what the state of your skill set is,” he added. The men hesitated in this, his first order to them, but Louis could understand their resistance. He saw Niall nod in his peripheral, and that spurred the men into action.

The hand to hand duels continued into the afternoon with man after man retiring side after side. They were all stiffer than Louis guessed they probably were, if only because they were under his scrutiny. Finally the last pair’s fight came to a close.

Part of Louis had thought Harry might take off to handle his chieftain duties, but he stayed there with them until the end, which gave Louis an idea.

“How about you, laird? How do you fare in hand to hand combat?” Louis asked loud enough that some of the men who had finished their own duels heard him.

Harry turned to him, his gaze sharp and calculating. “Harry,” he corrected. “And who do you propose I duel? Graeme? Stephen?” he asked. Louis had never even considered that Harry would fight anyone but himself, and the thought struck him. He gave a moment’s consideration to the idea before dismissing it entirely again.

“Me,” he said.

Harry’s eyes lit with mirth. “Very well.” Niall was on Harry in a second with his sword ready to go. Graeme, too, offered Louis his.

This was all a bit of fun for the men so that they would loosen up and not take him so seriously. It was imperative that they trusted him if they were all to be the least bit successful as a group.

“All in good fun, yeah?” Louis shrugged at Harry as they got in position.

“Fun,” Harry agreed. Gone was the softer, more mature and contemplative laird. In his place was a young man of his true age with a competitive edge to match.

They lined up and crossed swords in the space between their bodies. Niall stepped up between them and called for the duel to begin.

Harry immediately went on the offensive which surprised Louis as the move didn’t line up with anything of his character that Louis had seen so far.

Their combat was matched, Harry’s strength with a sword to Louis’ speed. Metal clashed at they traded the upper hand back and forth between them. The men surrounded them, energy restored, jeering and calling out their loyalty to their laird.

Louis studied him as best he could, searching for any kind of weakness he could find. Finally, Harry made a fatal error. He turned to follow Louis’ movements, and his grip weakened on his sword just enough that Louis could knock it out of his hand.

The sword fell to the ground with a heavy thump next to them. Louis’ chest was heaving from the exertion as he held his sword up until the tip was just under Harry’s chin.

“Do you yield, laird?”

“Harry.” The laird’s damp, heavy breaths were clouding on the gleaming metal of Louis’ sword.

“Alright. Do you yield, Harry?” he teased.

Harry looked entirely too relaxed for having been disarmed, but he had indeed been disarmed and the fight was all but over, so Louis didn’t think too much of it.

That, it turned out, was Louis’ fatal mistake.

With more grace than Louis had seen from him over the course of the past few days, Harry’s chin cleared the sword as he leaned over and crouched down, until he had shouldered Louis straight in the abdomen, successfully tackling him to the ground.

Louis dropped his sword from his hand for fear of it getting tangled up in their limbs. And that’s exactly what they were, a tangle. Harry had miscalculated and overshot so he didn’t land with enough control to fully pin Louis to the ground and maintain his position.

To flip their positions, Louis hooked his foot around Harry’s knees and pressed his shoulders fast enough so that Harry was the one who landed flat on his back.

Louis quickly locked his legs around Harry’s body, grabbed his wrists and pressed them into the ground, then sat down fully on Harry’s torso just above his hips.

“Oof—” Harry cried out when Louis had fully pinned him. He struggled against Louis’ hold a couple of times, but Louis dug his hands into the grass and dirt underneath them tightening his grip.

“Yield!” Louis cried out as he pressed down.

They were both panting heavily and when Louis looked down their faces were inches from each other.

“Never,” Harry replied with less force, but the sound was strangled deep in the back of his throat.

In his shock at their proximity, Louis’ hold had loosened. Harry stopped fighting back and his eyes were getting steadily wider.

There again, was that enchanting shade of green that Louis’ had never seen before despite growing up surrounded by lush countryside.

“And the winner is Tomlinson!” Niall cried, breaking the spell. Various jeers rang out around them in good fun, masking any kind of awkwardness.

Louis planted his feet in the ground on either side of Harry’s hips and sprang up. He wanted to run away, wanted to hide, but he did the sportsmanlike thing and held his hand out for Harry to take so he could help him up off the ground.

There was another shiver of electricity as their dirt and grass covered hands met for a brief moment.

Louis needed to address the men, now. He shook himself off and retrieved his sword from the ground.

“You all are adequate soldiers, that’s true—all credit to Niall,” he cleared his throat and tried to calm his shaky breathing. “But you could be better. I am here to make you better.”

“Continue your exercises for today as you normally would, and we’ll start introducing new ones on the morrow.”

The men murmured their agreement before heading back to the field. For all that Louis was shaken up by his encounter with Harry, the ice seemed to be broken and they all were now significantly looser in their movements as he observed them.

He could only hope that he was well on his way to earning their respect. It would take time, he knew, but he expected that. To be honest, there would be cause for suspicion if they readily accepted him—an outsider—without argument.

 

That evening, the novelty of their arrival had not worn off. Louis hoped it would eventually because being stared at throughout the entirety of his meal was not something he was accustomed to at home. None of the stares were mean spirited at all, but he and his men were new and interesting.

Louis was a soldier, a warrior, and given his build he had learned that stealth was vital to his survival. Strategy and ambush were his specialties as a combatant. To be on display as such was unsettling.

From his place at the head table as Harry’s “honored guest,” he could feel each and every stare or casual glance as people tried to assess him and judge his ability to help their clan. Again, given his build, they most likely underestimated him. That part at least did not bother Louis. He expected it. Relied on it the same way he did his stealth.

The food and ale placed in front of him were exceptional, so Louis did his best to concentrate on that and tune back into the conversation that was happening around him. Much of it had to do with the day to day workings of the keep while Harry was away, and Louis watched the way the laird’s brow furrowed as he tried to follow each and every bit of news that his friends and advisors told him.

Louis couldn’t help but smile as Niall’s tales grew in exuberance over the course of the evening, especially when a _certain_ serving woman was around. Aileen was a pretty girl with chestnut hair that was tied up under a kerchief while she ruled over her domain, making sure everyone was fed. Louis could see the appeal. Not for him—no, never for him—but for Niall.

The whole night, Niall gravitated towards Aileen and it only grew worse as they all moved from the great hall to the hearth to relax before retiring to bed. Flames roared, whisky was passed, and Aileen had finished her official duties for the night.

Eventually, they all began to nod off and one by one dispersed to their various sleeping quarters. Louis and Harry had very little in the way of personal conversations, but he had enough whisky in him that as they found themselves retiring at the same time, he couldn’t hold his tongue.

“Did you know your head serving woman and your captain are in love with each other?”

Harry’s stride stopped abruptly in the hallway. “What?” he asked, his face frozen.

Louis had meant the declaration as a joke, he hadn’t intended for it to be taken as news. Struck by Harry’s shock, he stammered as he began to back track.

Almost immediately, the laird’s face broke into a grin at Louis floundering.

He had been played.

“Yes, I know,” Harry said as he finally started walking again. “They’re not exactly subtle about it.”

Something had unlocked in Louis’ chest with the laird’s sudden sense of humor; this was the first time he had seen the man look even remotely close to his age. Another balm to Louis’ unease at being here in unfamiliar territory.

“Do they have an agreement?” Louis asked, curiosity piqued.

Harry hesitated, and in an instant the young, joking laird was back to his more stoic self. “Not in so many words, I don’t think.”

Louis waited for another moment, expecting the laird to say more. He certainly looked like there was something else he wanted to say, but the words never came and by then they had reached the door of Louis’ quarters.

He hummed in response if only to fill the silence. “Well goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight,” Harry bowed his head and turned down towards his own quarters, leaving Louis to his own room where the only thing to fill the silence was the crackling of the hearth.

Clearly he had made some sort of misstep, but he hadn’t a clue as to what it was.

 

The next morning, Louis rose before the sun. Warriors often had to be able to wake at the slightest provocation, and Louis had long since trained himself to wake naturally early.

That morning in particular he didn’t want to dawdle and didn’t bother with any sort of morning exercises. He would be getting plenty of exercise.

It was another day for observing the Edwards’ troops, but he also wanted to start them on some of his own trainings developed in his time with Liam’s soldiers.

Louis quite liked teaching, he had found. Being a soldier and having a purpose had been what he needed in his youth; he couldn’t believe it had already been more almost twelve years since he left home for the first time. His sisters, the middle twins, were still bairns at only three when he left, and now they were maturing into young women before his very eyes. In the end, the enticement of the time he had missed and his mother writing to say she was set to deliver another set of twins had been what drew him home.

Since coming back to his clan when his youngest siblings were born Louis had mellowed out considerably. At least he liked to think he had.

As a soldier he had learned the pomp and circumstance of war, what the battlefield meant versus what happened when no one else was looking.

Early on, his superiors had seen in him a keen mind. More than likely at first they had just been looking for someone who didn’t look like a soldier, but he soon proved himself to them and was sent on more and more dangerous missions.

Louis Tomlinson, the nobody tucked away in the Scottish highlands, still knew exactly which of Louis IX’s courtiers maintained their true loyalty to Henry III, the Plantagenet king. Very few, he would say two people in all of England, knew that he possessed such knowledge and he intended to keep it that way.

He was much happier up in his homeland where their own king didn’t know who he was or what his value was. Alexander III was but a child who had taken the throne three years prior, well after Louis had retired or been of any value.

Splashing his face with frigid water to clear away the cobwebs of his past life, Louis went in search of something to break his fast.

The keep was new and still unfamiliar, but he did his best to find his way in the just now rising sun. When he found the kitchen the scullery maids were already about their morning duties, and fell silent as he entered.

Typically in most keeps the maids had some sort of oat cake or biscuits set out for themselves.

“Ladies,” he bowed his head in deference. “Sorry to interrupt, but do you have a spare cake I might have for breakfast.”

They were all silent, but one motioned towards a cheesecloth lump on the table and when Louis lifted the fabric he found one, straight out of the oven.

“Wonderful,” he said, biting into the cake. He chewed his first bite as he turned to leave, but turned to thank them before he did. As soon as he was out of view, they broke into a fit of bashful giggles.

Young girls, it seemed, were the same everywhere. The idea sent a pang through his heart as he thought of his sisters. After he came back he had vowed not to leave them like that again, and yet there he was more than a day’s ride away.

That was better than the Gallic fields across the narrow sea, he supposed.

Louis continued to walk and chew on his oat cake, intent on discovering as much as he could about the keep and find the armory on his way before heading out to the field. It was going to be a long day, and he wanted to be prepared.

Two hours later, Harry’s men were begging for mercy.

“You’ll get through it just about as soon as you stop complaining,” Louis cried out over the clanging of steel on steel.

“I think you’ve broken them,” a voice said quietly over his shoulder.

When Louis turned the laird was smirking at the open field surveying the state of his warriors. He hadn’t made an appearance all morning, which was fine, Louis appreciated the level of trust that was required in leaving him alone with their soldiers, but it would have been helpful if he had been there to help Louis gauge if he was overstepping his authority.

“No,” Louis waved him off. “They’ll be alright.”

Harry chuckled before snorting inelegantly. “Not if you ask them,” there was a heavy pause. “Or apparently all my serving maids.”

The tone in his voice had taken a much harder edge, so Louis finally turned his full attention to him. “I was in search of sustenance to break my fast, that was all,” he held his hands up in front of him defensively. He was an older brother and son of a previously unwed mother, he knew the perils of men in women’s spaces.

The laird’s face cleared the same way it had the night before in the hallway, and Louis couldn’t believe he had been played _again._ To pull one over on him twice was practically unheard of given his keen instincts.

“That was unsportsmanlike,” he muttered as he turned back to the men and the laird’s laugh rose in pitch and grew in volume.

 

As the weeks passed, the training schedule Louis set up for the men of Clan Edwards increased in both speed and difficulty as they improved, and Louis settled into a bit of a routine.

The women in the kitchen were used to him popping in for an oat cake in the wee hours of the morning every day before training, and he had even begun to build up a rapport with them. They now felt comfortable enough to have a conversation with him instead of just giggling at everything he said.

Louis and his men settled into a routine at Clan Edwards as well. Slowly but surely they all began to warm up to each other. Louis admired the relationship the laird had with his men, it was clear they were very close to the way brothers in arms should be.

There had been rumors all over the Highlands for years about the mismanagement of the clan under Harry’s father, but no one seemed to want to talk about it. That was unsurprising, he supposed, but there were whisperings every once in a while about just what had gone wrong.

By all accounts, Harry’s people loved him. Everything pointed to Harry being a much better leader than his father and Louis respected him for it. He had seen what a mutiny looked like from the inside, and whatever ailed Clan Edwards, it was not civil unrest.

Maybe there wasn’t anything that ailed the clan at large, but something certainly ailed their laird. His people were happy, but he seemed to carry the burden of the world on his shoulders.

A few weeks after their arrival, they were all at the head table eating their evening meal. Now that Louis and his men were no longer such formal guests, they weren’t strict with their seating arrangements at meals, but Louis still sat fairly close to Niall and the laird by force of habit.

That night in particular there was an undercurrent that ran between Harry and his second in command. Every time Aileen came near them, she glared at Niall fiercely before bumping his chair or violently putting his trencher down and spilling his ale. It didn’t take a genius to know she was upset with him.

Whenever she walked away, Harry and Niall would lean in close to each other and whisper in hushed voices. Niall kept shaking his head and pleading with Harry and Harry kept insisting on something, but the hall was too noisy for Louis to hear what they were saying.

Finished with own meal, Louis lounged back in his chair, keen to observe. He didn’t quite understand why, but he was ever curious about the young laird. There were so many layers to his personality and Louis, who prided himself on his instincts, never seemed able to solve the puzzle.

The back and forth, push and pull between Harry and Niall, and Niall and Aileen went on all evening. Tensions between each pair seemed to be mounting as Aileen got more and more violent, and Harry got more and more insistent. Niall looked torn between the two.

Louis had just turned to signal to one of the serving women that he could use a refill of his ale, when Niall stood up violently, pushing his chair back with force and stepping into the aisle between the tables.

The whole room startled and conversations came to a halt around them.

“Aileen McClelland,” Niall called out too loudly across the packed hall considering she was only standing a few feet away from him.

Aileen turned and gave him a questioning look with fires raging behind her eyes.

“What are you on about?” she bit out under her breath as her gaze shifted and she took in exactly how many pairs of eyes were on her.

“Well…” Niall trailed off looking down at Harry one more time, before he too looked around the room.

Louis darted his gaze down to Harry as well. The laird’s eyes were shining with mirth in the candle light and his smile was wide as he watched his best friend. For only the second time since Louis had met him, he actually looked lighthearted and young. As if for a moment, someone had taken his burden away.

“Niall!” Aileen hissed, bringing Louis’ attention back up to the drama that was playing out in front of the whole clan.

Niall took a deep breath. “Aileen McClelland, will yeh give me your hand?”

Aileen stared at him for a moment, open-mouthed. Louis was certain they would be able to hear a pin drop as the whole hall waited on her answer with bated breath. To Louis’ surprise, she looked to Harry first and out of the corner of his eye, Louis saw Harry give her an imperceptible nod.

It must have been enough, though, because the next thing he knew Aileen was running towards Niall and sailing through the air into his arms, slamming their lips together.

Niall’s arms closed around her waist to hold her up and the whole room erupted into cheers.

Louis was once again drawn to Harry as he watched the couple with great tenderness in his gaze. They had all known each other for their whole lives and had been through a lot together. Louis knew Niall and Aileen had been together for a long time but never took the step towards handfasting. He scoffed and said a little prayer for poor Niall having to wait all that time to consummate their relationship.

Then again, he thought as he watched their _very_ passionate embrace, maybe they hadn’t waited.

The couple finally calmed down once the cheers had turned exceedingly bawdy, and tables were cleared as Harry signalled for someone to bring out a giant barrel of mead.

Niall turned back to the table and dragged Aileen down onto his lap once he was seated again. Her arm tightened around his neck and they settled comfortably in the chair together. This was not a couple that was unfamiliar with touching each other. Louis bit down on a smirk as he confirmed his earlier conclusions.

Someone handed him a glass of the mead and he raised it almost immediately.

“To Niall and his lovely bride,” Louis cried out. Cheers rang out once again as everyone drank the sweet liquid. It had been quite some time since Louis had been afforded such a luxury. Given how busy he had been helping Liam take over as the Sutherland, there had been celebrations, but Louis had always had other things to worry about.

Here at Clan Edwards, he could sit back and enjoy.

And enjoy he did.

Louis was pleasantly buzzed as the group of revelers began to dwindle. Many of the men had retired to the hearth, Louis among them. Niall and Aileen were wrapped up in each other in one of the large chairs by the fire, and Louis suspected they wouldn’t be climbing out until forced.

Then there was Harry. Louis had been watching him as stealthily as he could all night. Most of the night the laird had maintained his facade of levity, but eventually it had begun to fade behind his eyes.

The world was hazy around the edges, and Louis was just drunk enough that he didn’t realize he was approaching Harry until he was already halfway across the room.

Unfortunately, he still had a strong enough hold of his inhibitions that he didn’t know what to say once he reached Harry’s side.

The laird was leaning against the stone hearth and swirling his glass of mead in his hand, but he looked up when Louis moved into his space. He made a valiant effort to look happy, but once he saw the intruder was Louis, he let his smile fade back off his face.

“What’s wrong, laird?” Louis asked softly so as not to disturb the merriment of the room around them.

“Nothing is wrong,” he replied in a hushed voice to match Louis’. “And I thought I told you to call me Harry.”

“Alright,” Louis nodded and downed the last swallow of mead in his glass. “What’s wrong, Harry?”

“Nothing. I just told you,” the laird said dismissively.

Louis hummed in response. “The funny thing is, you hired me for my skills as a soldier.”

The laird scoffed and finished off the rest of his drink as well. “I didn’t hire you, Liam sent you.”

That gave Louis pause. He was right. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is that I have instincts.”

“Instincts?” He should have found Louis at least a little bit funny. He should have risen to the occasion and picked up the rhythm of the banter they had established between them, but he didn’t. This was very dire indeed.

“Why don’t you want Niall and Aileen to be handfasted?”

Harry met his gaze sharply. “I do.”

“Very well,” Louis acquiesced. “Then why are you upset?”

“I’m not upset.”

“Laird—Harry. I’m warm, comfortable, well-fed. There is no one waiting for me in my chambers this evening. I can assure you, I have nothing to do but stand here and wait for you to tell me what ails you.”

Harry watched him for a moment, and looked tempted to drop everything and walk away. For a brief moment Louis was worried he had overstepped his bounds and the laird would do just that. Instead, he only had to wait for two breaths, maybe three, before Harry began staring intently at his glass.

“They waited too long,” he said carefully, his voice breaking on the last syllable.

Louis eyed the way Niall’s face was pressed into Aileen’s bosom, and the way her fingers teased lightly at the base of his neck. “I’m not sure ‘waited’ is the right word for it,” he replied skeptically.

Harry let out a sharp, humorless chuckle. “That’s not what I meant. They could have been handfasted years ago. But they were waiting.”

Louis studied the way the sharp line of his jaw tensed in the firelight. “Waiting for what?”

“For me,” Harry choked out. “Aileen wanted to wait until she could help out the new lady of the keep before they married. On the off chance that they conceived, which would render her unable to help.”

Something clenched deep within Louis’ gut at the idea of Harry ruling over Clan Edwards married to a noble, waifish little miss hanging off his arm and running his household. The feeling twisted as he watched Niall and Aileen and tried to picture Harry wrapped up in the armchair the same way with the faceless woman he hypothetically loved.

That wasn’t the issue at hand.

“You can’t change the past, Harry,” Louis whispered, echoing the sentiment his mother had repeated to him many times when the guilt of being away from home engulfed him in the quiet moments. “It’s happened, it’s gone.”

Louis reached up to place his hand on Harry’s plaid-draped arm. “All you can do is exactly what you did tonight; make sure they find their way to each other now.”

Harry was once again studying his glass as though he might be able to mould the shape with his thoughts. “I suppose.”

Louis squeezed the muscle of Harry’s arm through the warm fabric. “I have never seen Niall happier. No matter what happens, you have given him that.”

Eventually, Harry looked up to watch the new couple laugh and embrace again. The world truly did not exist around them.

“Also, I don’t know her all that well, but I can imagine Aileen will find a way to direct the household even from the comfort of her birthing bed.”

The laird snorted inelegantly before they both dissolved into an outright chuckle.

When Harry calmed down a bit, he turned to face Louis more fully, jostling his hand where it still laid on his arm. His movements knocked Louis’ hands farther down until only the tips of his fingers were on Harry’s plaid, but his palm was wrapped around the taut, warm skin of his elbow.

If he hadn’t been drinking, he might have moved it immediately when Harry turned. He didn’t.

Their breath mingled between them and their eyes met in the dim firelight.

“Thank you, Louis,” Harry whispered, his voice even softer and deeper than it had been all evening.

“Of course.”

Harry held him captive under the intensity of his gaze for another few heartbeats, before he turned away to cross the room and approach Niall.

Louis watched as he pasted on a grin and clapped his second-in-command on the shoulder. The specifics of what he said were lost to the din of noise in the room, but whatever it was made everyone around them laugh and cheer.

The laird met Louis’ stare across the room one more time before he continued his journey across the room and up the stairs to his chambers, retiring for the night.

When he was finally out of sight, Louis scrubbed his face with his hands, attempting to erase the phantom feeling of Harry’s skin under his.

Nothing good could come of thoughts like that.

 

All of the men were slow to rise the next morning, Louis included, so he took it easy on them. He knew he had a reputation for being a bit of a hardass, but he was still human.

They were all feeling a little more like themselves by the time the midday meal rolled around and they all shuffled in from the autumn chill. Everyone was quiet and contemplative, keeping to themselves. Or nursing their headaches.

Harry had given Aileen and Niall the day off from their duties so they could prepare for their handfasting ceremony. He hadn’t told Louis directly, but relayed the news to all of the men that morning. Their eyes had met when he told the men that they would be married come Sunday, not wanting to wait another moment. The laird looked much more content with the situation in the light of day. Louis was glad.

The other serving women had just laid out the trenchers for the last of the tables and everyone had long since begun eating by the time the messenger arrived for the laird.

Harry beckoned the young boy over, and his mother sat up straighter in her seat. The laird read the missive, but not fast enough for Lady Anne.

“What news?”

“It’s from Gemma,” he said quickly as he concentrated on the words in front of him. “She and her husband are coming down to represent the Sinclairs and would like to formally enter an agreement with our clan and the Sutherland.”

It was Louis’ turn to sit up straight at the mention of Liam. Harry turned to him in earnest. “Can we spare someone to send word to Liam? Someone he trusts?” he raised his eyebrows at Louis sardonically and the corner of Louis’ smile lifted. He had done what he did before they met for his own reasons. Mostly that he didn’t know Harry then.

Louis nodded. “Graeme is the fastest rider, he can go.” That was a lie. Louis was the faster rider and everyone knew it, but something was telling him that he needed to stay.

Harry studied him for a moment. “Very well,” he replied before he called the messenger over and signaled for a plate so that the boy could rest.

Once the commotion had ceased, he passed Gemma’s letter to his mother so she could read the rest of the updates, before sitting back in his chair. The wheels in his mind were spinning so quickly, Louis could practically see them.

“What else do you need?” he asked quietly while the rest of the room went back to the business of their meal.

Harry scoffed. “I need to have not given Aileen and Niall the day off.”

Louis knew he didn’t mean that and bided his time waiting for him to explain how he really felt. Eventually, the laird chewed on his bottom lip and steepled his long, tapered fingers in front of his face.

“Food. We need more food. It will take a few days for both the Sinclairs and Liam to arrive. I don’t think either party will be very large, but no matter what we should have meat and stores ready for them.”

“Agreed.” Louis now had an intimate knowledge of their pantry after his frequent morning raids.

“A hunting party. We should send out a hunting party, and soon,” Harry sighed.

“Who?” Louis asked.

“Me. Niall. You.” Harry counted off the three of them on his fingers. “Maybe a few of the younger soldiers so we can take the opportunity to train them, and they can carry whatever we kill.”

“Is it wise to have all three of us away from the keep at once?” Louis asked concerned for the clan’s security.

Harry’s expression softened. “It will just be one night. Also, you’ll need to learn the land if you are to help Liam hunt after we have allied ourselves.”

There was the barest hint of suggestion when Harry spoke. Allied themselves, indeed.

But then his mother called to him across the table, and in the blink of an eye the playful Harry was gone.

 

The next morning at first light, the messenger returned to the Sinclairs, Graeme rode for Sutherland land, and the hunting party set out.

Because of the nature of their business, they spoke softly if at all and were mostly quiet in the barest hint of early morning light. Their party was indeed made up of Harry, Niall, a few of the younger soldiers, and Louis.

In the stillness of the morning, they began to train the younger men and show them how to track the game nearby and set up their positions to wait. Throughout the day they ventured as far as they could on Edwards land and caught what they could until dusk began to fall.

Harry and the younger men rode ahead to scout for a place to set up camp for the night.

Now that they were no longer worried about disturbing the animals around them, Niall was back to his jovial self. It was clear even in his quiet moments, he was on top of the world.

“How is the shackled life, Sir Horan?” Louis laughed.

His companion’s expression took on a dreamy quality. “Wonderful,” he sighed.

Louis rolled his eyes. “Oh, brother.”

“She’s the most beautiful woman in the world. But we’re not married yet,” he said, like it was something he needed to race to rectify.

“Aye, but soon enough.”

Niall shook his head. “Never soon enough.” He stared off in the distance for a moment. “I wonder what she’s doing right now.”

“Serving the evening meal, I would expect.”

“Can’t believe I’m out here with you bastards instead of back in my nice warm bed with my bonnie lass.”

Louis threw his head back and laughed. “Why would you want that when you can be out under the stars on this freezing cold night?”

Niall grunted.

Louis’ curiosity about Harry began to bubble up in his throat. “The laird mentioned something the other night. About you and Aileen waiting?”

Internally he cringed that he was being purposefully obtuse.

Niall’s face fell for a moment. “Aye. Mentioned to Harry awhile back that Aileen and I made an agreement to wait until he had a lady all proper like.”

“Why now?”

“Well,” Niall reached up to stretch his arm and scratch the back of his neck to hide his discomfort. “He didn’t much like that idea. Blames himself for everything, our laird does. So he forced my hand.”

Louis tried to tamp down his eagerness. “And the ‘lady’? Will there be a mistress of _Dun Muir Òir_ any time soon?”

“Not if the laird has anything to say about it.”

“What do you mean?”

That final question seemed to be the limit, if Niall’s reaction was anything to go by. He stiffened in his saddle. “I’ve said too much, and it’s not my story to tell.”

Louis turned back to watch the road in acknowledgement and show his willingness to drop the subject.

“You’re a good friend, Niall.”

They rode on in silence for a few more minutes before they finally approached one of the young soldiers stationed as lookout. They dismounted, tied up their horses and joined Harry and the other men where they were already roasting some of the rabbits they caught earlier in the day.

Conversation was bawdy and boisterous the way it normally became when a group of soldiers were forced to sit still for the night, but as the fire died down so did their wakefulness.

Harry and the other soldiers had found shelter, but as they set out their bedrolls it became clear that there was very little room for them to spread out. If it had been a clearer evening they might have gotten away with it, but as it was the moon was covered by clouds, and the air was heavy with humidity. They needed to stay under the cover of the trees and canvas Harry had constructed.

Louis let Harry place his bedroll closest to the base of the trees, furthest under the cover of the branches and fabric, before unrolling his own. They both shifted around as they covered themselves in their tartans and settled unnervingly close to each other.

There was no need for Louis to be anxious about anything. He was a grown man, around other grown men, all of whom had camped like this time and time again. He himself had slept in the most treacherous conditions deep in the heart of the Gallic territory. Sleeping next to one laird should not be a problem.

Niall excused himself to prepare himself for the night, plunging Louis and Harry into a stark silence, neither one anywhere near sleep.

The quiet of the night was beginning to grow awkward given how close they were to each other, and Louis searched for something to say.

“The hunt was good today,” he said lamely, secretly rolling his eyes at himself under the cover of darkness. It helped that his back was to Harry.

Harry hummed in response, which was not reaffirming. The innocuous topic of how well they had done—which they had, they had at least two full venison—was not something Louis thought was up for debate.

No longer embarrassed at how ridiculous his small talk was, Louis was growing incensed at the laird’s lack of praise for how they had done as a group.

In his unrest, he began to roll over and shift so they could have this conversation face to face. “Are you not satisfied, _laird_?” His jibe might have been more dignified if he hadn’t been struggling with his tartan while making it.

“Of course not. I won’t be satisfied until the clan and all of our guests have proven to be happy and well fed.”

Finally settled, Louis inhaled sharply and reared back to look Harry in the eye, but the seriousness in his expression stopped his comments on his tongue. He wasn’t being facetious, he truly meant that.

Louis’ defense of their hunting party deflated in his chest as he leaned in to close some of the miniscule distance that lay between them.

“Harry,” he whispered. “Has anyone ever told you that you have much to big a heart?”

Harry’s eyebrows knit together as he contemplated what Louis said. “It’s not about having a big heart, it’s about my duty to lead my clan.”

His hand twitched on the bedroll between them, and Louis let his own part the folds of his tartan to lay on top of Harry’s. “You’re an amazing leader, but you can’t hold the world on your shoulders. There is plenty of meat now and food in the larders. Tomorrow on our way back in, we will only find more.”

Harry’s eyelids shuttered as he stared at where Louis’ hand covered his own, before meeting Louis’ stare once again.

They laid like that, hand over hand, watching each other in the dying embers of the fire with only a hairsbreadth of space between them.

“I can’t believe I’m out here in the cold and wet with you two gobshites and not at home in bed under the furs with my lady.”

Harry and Louis both startled as Niall’s voice came around the corner, but their faces were dangerously close together and when Harry jolted, his nose bumped Louis’ before ricocheting and hitting his cheekbone as he desperately tried to right himself.

Louis coughed to cover his grunt of pain as he squeezed his eyes shut and turned over again so his back was once again to both Harry and the tree.

His face, nay his whole body was on fire as he thought about the compromising position Niall had almost found them in just moments before. His heart was racing and his adrenaline was pumping and all he could think about was the way his and Harry’s noses had bumped together.

All he wanted to do was turn over to see how Harry was handling the embarrassment, but that would only make everything a hundred times worse.

Niall kept jabbering on about Aileen as he settled himself on his own bedroll that was laid out farther down at Louis and Harry’s feet. Louis was cursing himself for not taking that spot when he had the chance, but he had never been more grateful for how tirelessly lovesick Niall was.

Eventually he wore himself out, and his voice tapered off. Soon after that, Louis could hear soft snuffles behind him as Harry snored. He wanted more than anything to turn over to see how his face relaxed in restful slumber, but that was an excessive and unnecessary thing to want for someone he barely knew.

And after almost getting caught earlier he couldn’t risk it.

 

Louis woke with the dawn the next morning, thankfully having kept his hands to himself. The laird was still asleep behind him, and Louis could feel the warmth of Harry’s body radiating between them. He quickly rose and gathered up his things, packing his bedroll and crossing to his horse. In the still of the morning mist he gave each horse some attention and feeding them all some treats. Agan, Harry’s horse, tucked her nose inside his furs looking for more.

He had noticed that about the laird throughout his time with the clan, he and Agan were similar to one another. They were slow to trust, but once they let someone in they were instinctual and searched for affection everywhere.

The whole clan showed Harry affection all the time, and he was so worried about providing for them, Louis wasn’t even sure he noticed he was seeking it out half the time.

By the time Louis was done with the horses, Harry and Niall were both awake and following in his footsteps.

The young soldiers had taken the watches for the night so they let them sleep a little while longer while they covered the dying embers of the fire and broke camp around them.

On the way back to the keep, the hunting was just as prosperous as they retraced their steps. Louis could only hope that their success allayed Harry’s fears about providing for their guests, but he was riding with noticeably more distance between them. Their return was faster than their journey out. By the time they made it back to the keep there was a small greeting party waiting for them.

They sent their companions to the kitchens with the meat so it could be preserved immediately, and in the meantime, Lady Anne took the three of them aside.

Graeme had returned that morning from Clan Sutherland to say that Liam would be arriving within the week. Louis could only imagine the Sinclair and Harry’s sister and brother-in-law would arrive soon after that.

“Very well,” Harry said after his mother was finished, his expression set in a hard line of concentration. “Have preparations for all of the guests been made?”

Lady Anne nodded. “They have. We’ll need their soldiers to join ours in the barracks, that’s all.”

“You can put Liam out there,” Louis quipped.

Despite the slight awkwardness and avoidance of the morning, Harry grinned at him. “Naturally, as my most honored guest.”

Lady Anne cut in before they could continue bantering. “Aileen and I will take it from here, thank you very much.” She laid her hand gently on Harry’s arm and squeezed. Just before she turned to walk away, she winked discreetly at Louis. The familiarity in the gesture shocked Louis into silence. He wasn’t sure what he had done to earn such a privilege.

Now that everyone had been dispatched, Niall dispatched himself when Lady Anne had mentioned Aileen, Harry and Louis were left standing at the entrance to the keep staring at each other.

Louis rubbed his hands on his breeches. “Well, I should—”

“There was more from Liam in his missive,” Harry blurt out, his hand crumpling around the parchment that his mother had given him.

That gave Louis pause. “Oh?”

“He says hello, all of that nonsense, but he also implies that he expects to take you and your men back home with him for the winter, and his visit here is as good a time as any.” Harry was all business when he said it, but he watched Louis shrewdly as he was prone to do.

When all of this started, when he was sent to Clan Edwards in the first place, Louis had been upset about leaving home and the care and protection of his sisters. He should have been overjoyed at the news, should have had his bags packed so he could leave at a moments’ notice.

But somehow he had forgotten that he was supposed to go home. He needed to return to his family, to his clan, to his real role as the leader of Liam’s warriors. Not Harry’s.

Harry’s men had vastly improved, and Louis felt confident he could leave more exercises and strategies with Niall to develop. Once this treaty was signed between Harry, Liam, and the Sinclair, there was no reason for Louis to stay.

Except that somehow the idea filled him with dread.


	3. Chapter 3

There was so much to do before the clan’s guests arrived that Harry’s head was spinning. He had been practically dragged to his quarters and forcibly locked inside by his mother only to find that the chamber maids had already drawn him a bath.

He supposed she was only trying to get him to relax, which he was notoriously terrible at, so he should appreciate her efforts. That became easier and easier to do as he lowered himself into the piping hot water.

As he leaned his head back against the edge of the tub, he comforted himself by listing off all of the things that had already been done.

Gemma, her husband, and the Sinclair laird were set to arrive that evening according to the messenger they had sent ahead of their party. Their rooms were set and a feast was in the midst of being prepared, and the whole clan was running like clockwork.

The reasonable voice in the back of his head told him that meant the clan was growing and adapting, and learning how to function on its own because it wasn’t being mismanaged any more. The unreasonable voice in his head wasn’t used to not being needed.

Louis was right, though. The hunting had been exceptional and they should have enough food without having to go out and hunt anymore.

Louis was exactly what Harry didn’t want to think about at the moment. When the soldier had first arrived Harry hadn’t shared his attraction to him with anyone else. If he was being honest, it was because he didn’t quite understand it himself. He had never met someone that he was so instantly attracted to, or desired so much, but that hadn’t mattered. Louis was there to do a job, a job that would greatly benefit Harry in the long run. So Harry had tamped down the new and confusing feeling in favor of his clan.

But now, Louis was leaving. Or he would be in a fortnight or so, after all the pomp and circumstance of this treaty signing was done and Liam was on his way home again with Louis and the rest of his men in tow.

After everything that happened between them, Harry was unsure how to feel about his departure.

They had reached an equilibrium the first week or so after Louis arrived, and had started to become friends. Despite his status as an outsider that was only visiting their clan, Harry had felt a deep connection to Louis the likes of which he had only felt with Niall and Zayn, whom he had known since he was still with the wet nurse.

There had been moments lately between Louis and himself. Brief, fleeting moments that set Harry’s skin aflame, and made his stomach feel light and airy. And he didn’t think he was alone in that. He was fairly certain that whatever he was feeling, Louis was feeling as well.

If Louis had even half the feelings for Harry that Harry had for him, that would be enough for him.

Harry simply needed the courage to ask the question that had been sitting on the tip of his tongue since Niall and Aileen had promised themselves to each other.

That night as he drifted off to sleep, he weighed over and over in his mind the possibility of talking to Louis about his feelings. He was worried he would be rejected and cause more harm than good, but he was almost more fearful of what would happen if he agreed.

 

Harry woke later than he normally did the next morning to the news that the Sinclair party was just beyond their border and would arrive within the hour.

He quickly splashed some water on his face and combed out his hair that had gotten fluffy as it dried in his sleep. He plaited it with a bit of extra care that morning as he would have to be a much more formal leader than he normally was from there on out as their guests continued to arrive.

To determine how cold it was, he lifted the corner of the furs on his window. It was getting colder every day. Liam was right to want to bring his men home now before the ground froze completely.

When he was finished he made his way below stairs to join the welcoming party. His mother was already there in her finery, ready to greet her only daughter.

All of his council was there as well, including Louis. Harry’s gait faltered as he studied his form against the stark grey sky. He was protected from the cold by furs of his own, and he too had taken a little extra time getting ready, Harry could tell.

It hit him suddenly that Louis was about to meet Harry’s sister for the first time. Harry also had no clue how much his mother had written to Gemma about why Louis and his men were there with their clan instead of with their own. He thought about Louis’ quick wit and acerbic commentary. Louis and Gemma were either going to despise each other or be inseparable.

Louis caught Harry’s eye and smiled, making Harry falter again. “I’ve heard a lot about your sister,” he said warily.

Harry snorted as he imagined some of the tall tales Niall and the other men had probably told him. “It’s all true.”

The carefree and open expression on Louis’ face only slipped into fear for a brief second. If Harry hadn’t grown to know him as much as he had over the past few weeks he wouldn’t have seen how nervous he was.

The slow moving thump of horse hooves on the ground that was growing harder in the deepening autumn interrupted their conversation, and Harry moved to take his place at the front next to his mother.

As the party approached, the first thing that struck Harry as odd was that Gemma wasn’t on a horse, she was in a carriage. He recognized her husband riding dutifully alongside her, and as the party turned, he saw that she rode with her maid. It wasn’t like her to be so particular.

His mother beside him gasped loudly and broke out in a run.

“Mother!” he shouted after her, surprised more than anything that she would ignore propriety.

All of his questions were answered as the party came to a halt and Duncan dismounted to help his wife out of her carriage just as Anne reached their side.

“My darling,” she said through her tears as Gemma gripped her husband’s hand and stepped down. There was only a brief flash of view for Harry before she threw her arms around their mother, but it was enough. Gemma was visibly with child.

He was going to be an uncle.

Harry couldn’t help himself and he too broke position to close the distance between the welcoming party and his sister. When he got close enough, he could see there were tears in both his mother and his sister’s eyes, and he willed himself not to break down in front of his men, he could do plenty of that later.

Gemma threw her arms around her neck, and Harry let himself be enveloped in the comfort of being together as a family again.

Such was the nature of the world that she had gone north for political reasons, and when she had gone it was willingly. She had been rather more annoyed that Harry persisted in asking her if she was amenable to the arrangement than she had been with the idea of arranged marriage itself.

Despite all of that, and Harry’s misgivings, she seemed radiantly happy. Harry didn’t know Duncan all that well, but from the way he was not-so-subtly hovering around them as they embraced her, Harry could tell he cared for Gemma.

Suddenly, he realized they were not all alone out in front of the keep. This was a political visit, and Harry had completely ignored the laird.

Stepping back, he searched for the man, only to find that he had dismounted and was watching them amusedly. The Sinclair laird was quite a bit older than his brother Duncan. They had met at Gemma’s wedding, and if Harry had to guess he would place the man about halfway between himself and his father in age. He cut an imposing figure with dark hair that was only beginning to dust with grey near his temples, but the lines by his eyes crinkled with mirth.

Sheepishly, Harry approached him. “Sinclair, my deepest apologies,” he said, holding his hand out for the other laird to grasp in his own.

“Nonsense. You’ve only just learned of the happy news that we have been celebrating for sometime now. And please, we’re past pleasantries now, call me Ewan.”

“Thank you for bringing her, especially in her condition.” The roads were not easy, and traveling with a carriage carrying a woman with child would have slowed them down considerably.

The laird threw his head back and laughed, grasping Harry by the shoulder. “You are gravely mistaken, Harry, if you think either Duncan or I had a choice in the matter.”

Harry joined him in his laughter, agreeing that his sister was indeed very strong willed, and he could only imagine how homesick she had been.

Once the whole party turned to head back to the keep, Harry saw the rest of their clan members waiting for them. Niall reached them first giving his own congratulations before Gemma was passed around to everyone else that had missed her.

Harry and Duncan hung back a bit and he approached his brother in law. “How does she fare?”

Duncan grinned and looked back at Gemma as he answered. “Hearty as ever. Barely any sickness aside from the first few weeks. The winter will be difficult, though.”

He continued to watch his wife, but seemed to be done talking. He was a man of few words, and Harry quite liked that about him. When he had been deathly afraid of sending his sister away, something about Duncan had put him at ease and put to bed his fears. Well, _some_ of his fears.

Sharing a moment with Duncan had almost allowed Harry to forget what was happening only a few steps away. When his brain finally registered the conversation happening around them, he was just in time to hear Niall addressing Louis and Gemma. Who were about to meet.

“Oh, _this_ ought to be good,” he said on a laugh, his gaze swinging back and forth between them.

Harry rushed to his sister’s side.

“Gemma, this is Louis Tomlinson, of Clan Sutherland, and his men Graeme and Stephen,” he blurt out with thankfully some coherence. “Louis, this is my sister, Lady Gemma.”

Before Louis could respond, Gemma cut in. “Ah, Sir Tomlinson,” she said studying him shrewdly as if she already knew who he was. Harry groaned internally and searched for his mother who had conveniently disappeared from view.

Louis quirked his eyebrow at her in confusion but bowed his head politely anyway. “Lady Gemma,” he replied. “Your brother has told me much about you. Though I must say, I’m not a knight of any kind. Only a humble soldier.”

Gemma eyed him up and down. “I’ll bet you are,” she said suggestively.

Harry choked on his own breath, and behind him he could hear Duncan failing in his attempt to stifle his laughter. He needed to put an end to this.

He put his arm around Gemma and began to lead her away before she could say anything else. “Very well then, you must be tired from your journey,” he said brusquely, leading her away from Louis—the rest of the men. What _had_  his mother been writing to her in their letters?

“But I feel very refreshed!” Gemma protested.

As soon as they were a safe distance away, Harry leaned in close to her ear. “What are you doing?” he hissed.

“Nothing, brother, I’m merely curious about the men from the Sutherlands,” she insisted as they traversed the familiar path into the keep. Duncan was following behind them at a safe distance.

“No,” he said. “No you’re not.” Her faux innocent act wasn’t fooling Harry for a moment.

She reared back, affronted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Harry wanted to wait until they were behind closed doors to have this conversation, and ideally it would have been in private, but it seemed as though Gemma and her husband had developed quite a close relationship.

When they made it to the room Gemma and her husband were staying in, Harry showed them in before rounding on his sister.

“What is going on?”

Gemma crossed her arms and raised a single eyebrow at him, the way that used to make him spill all his secrets when they were children. “I’m not sure, what _is_ going on?”

Fully aware of everything he was not telling her, Harry got defensive in return. “Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought,” she said as she started to unfasten the furs fastened around her shoulders. Duncan took them from her quickly and draped them over the wooden chair near the hearth.

Harry and his sister had never spoken of his preferences before, and he was thrown off by her suggestive reaction outside heavily implying that someone had told her something was going on between Louis and himself. Thrown off that he had been exceedingly obvious.

The question remained, how did someone else know enough about what was going on to pass it along when Harry didn’t even understand?

“I’m not sure what you think you know—” he started, but Gemma held up her hand to stop him.

“All I know is what I have been told. Which is that a warrior from another clan—a clan we feuded with for almost all of our lives—has become a confidant of yours.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but shut it again in haste while he thought about what she was saying. Her facts weren’t untrue in the strictest sense. Louis and Harry had grown close, he had just had the same thought not hours before.

That didn’t give her cause to assume there was anything going on between the two of them, though.

“It is true,” he conceded. “Louis has been a valuable asset in training our men.”

“I’ll bet he has,” Gemma said in the same suggestive tone as she had outside.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Why do you keep saying that?” There was no one quite like his older sister that could reduce his level of maturity to that of a petulant child.

Gemma turned to her husband, and leaned up to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Will you leave us for a moment?”

Duncan nodded first to her then to Harry.

The door shut firmly behind him and Gemma looked at Harry with a much softer expression. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make light of it.”

Exasperated, Harry let himself sit on the edge of her bed. “Make light of _what_?”

“Your… friendship with Louis.”

Harry squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t see how it’s all that odd. He’s from another clan, yes, but he’s incredibly smart and quick, and you should see what he’s done with our warriors.” He cut himself off when what he was saying started to sound too suggestive.

“Niall and mother have implied that’s it’s become a very close friendship very quickly.”

He watched the fire in the hearth for a moment as they sat there in the relative silence. “I could never force a woman into an arrangement with me like that.” Harry knew what he was saying to Gemma of all people, was unrelated at best and hypocritical at worst, but his sister understood. She had gone into her arrangement with Duncan with both eyes open, making a conscious choice to help her family and take the opportunity to explore life beyond their clan.

She sat down next to him. “I’ll tell you what I’m sure everyone else has already said. First of all, any woman would be lucky to have someone as caring and considerate as you are on the other end of an arranged marriage. Secondly, however you decide to lead this clan is your decision.”

Maybe if Harry heard it enough, he might start to believe it.

They invited Duncan back into the room and Harry left them to prepare for the midday meal.

If all went well, Liam would be there by nightfall, and they could all dine together. The sooner all of the lairds signed the treaty to protect each other, the more secure in the safety of his own clan Harry would feel.

He stopped by his chambers to splash some water on his face and take off his outer furs before heading to find Niall and have a very distinct word about gossiping with sisters.

Instead, he was met with both Niall and Louis laughing and joking in the entrance to the keep.

When Louis saw him they quieted, no less merry. “Liam sent word that he’s not far out. They should be here as planned.”

Harry thanked him before turning and walking away. Anything having to do with Louis was a little too much for him to handle at the moment.

“Harry?” He could hear both Louis and Niall calling after him, but he ignored them in light of finding something, anything, to do.

Eventually, he made his way to the weavers to make sure both the gifts for their guests were ready as well as the ceremonial tie they were making for Niall and Aileen’s handfasting.

The ceremony would take place while all their guests were in attendance. Harry was hoping to sign the treaty quickly either that evening or the next day before their ceremony. That way they could have one big celebration afterwards.

There was a lot more to keep Harry occupied now and he managed to avoid Louis for the rest of the afternoon until a messenger was sent to tell him that Liam was approaching. The same welcome party from that morning assembled out front once again to greet the Sutherland and his entourage, which to Harry’s only mild surprise, included Zayn.

Liam dismounted and greeted both Harry and the Sinclair before breaking off to greet Louis and his men. There was much more back slapping and cheering amongst them than there had been in the morning. Under the cover of the noise, Harry approached his clansman.

“It seems to me there are other clans in the Highlands that we should be trading with, not just the Sutherlands.”

Zayn didn’t bother answering his question. “I got word about Niall and Aileen. Never would have missed that.”

A mischievous grin spread across his face and Harry couldn’t help but relax his put-upon stern expression and draw him into a hug.

“Very well,” he said as the boisterous camaraderie between the men of clan Sutherland seemed to be calming down.

While he had both Liam and Ewan there he wanted to be sure they were ready for the coming events.

“Sutherland, Sinclair,” Harry called out forcefully. Both men immediately drew themselves to attention and came forward.

Harry tried to keep reminding himself that he was equal to these two powerful men. “Are both of you ready with your scribes and witnesses? If we can get this done after the evening meal tonight, on the morrow we will have a handfasting. Then we can all relax and celebrate for the next week or so until it’s out of our systems.”

Both men grinned at him as everyone else in the courtyard began to grow restless with excitement.

The Sinclair spoke up first. “I have a few amendments, but they are paltry and easily addressed this evening.”

The admission made Harry’s heart flip for a moment because he was anxious about anything that might jeopardize his clan’s protection, but he needed to remember that the Sinclair was an honorable man and his changes were probably minor.

Liam, too, agreed that his concerns were not anything that would alter the structure of the treaty. They all dispersed so that Liam and the rest of his men could settle in their quarters.

 

The evening meal was a merry affair. Harry had been worried about hosting so many people, but he needn’t have. As he looked around, he marveled at the fact that a few weeks prior he had been apprehensive about meeting with Liam for the first time, suspicious of him and his intentions, and suspicious of Oli the messenger.

His eyes slid across the table to where Louis was sitting in the midst of a conversation with Liam. To think Louis hadn’t trusted him then either. He could only hope that had changed enough in their time with each other, hope that Louis had grown to trust him.

But he couldn’t think about Louis right now.

Despite everyone’s assurances that signing the treaty was merely a formality, Harry’s shoulders still tensed as the meal continued on, never-ending.

“Relax,” Niall whispered. “It will be fine, laird.”

“I am relaxed,” Harry replied.

“Tell that to your furrowed brow.”

Harry’s awareness of the tension in his face and body surged, and he did his best to sit more loosely in his chair.

Niall nodded. “Aye, that’s a start.”

Harry grunted before picking up his goblet and taking a long drink of ale.

“Chin up. No matter what I’m getting married tomorrow.”

Guilt swamped Harry. “You’re right, Niall. I’m sorry. Nothing will get in the way of that.”

“I know,” his clansman said easily. “But I also know you won’t think any more about it until all of this treaty business is done. Don’t worry about me and Aileen. We’ll be fine.”

Harry reached over and grasped his forearm to show his thanks. Niall responded by scraping his chair back and getting the attention of the hall at large. “I call all three lairds, their men, their scribes, and their witnesses. Let us be done with this business!”

His voice boomed around the chamber and echoed in the silence for a brief moment before a loud cheer went up.

All of the necessary men stood up and began gathering to enter the ante chamber together. Harry called the clan’s priest, who was also their scribe, to proceed ahead of him.

In the small room off the hall, Harry, Liam, and Ewan all sat at the small table with Father McCrae while their men surrounded them. Harry could only imagine his mum and sister were in the room as well but it was so crowded he couldn’t see them.

“Gentlemen,” Harry started, swallowing his nervousness with all his might. There was a small chance that by the end of the evening he would no longer carry such a heavy weight of anxiety on his shoulders. “This treaty dictates that we of Clan Edwards, Clan Sutherland, and Clan Sinclair, will all protect each other in the coming months and beyond against any and all threats from the south, no matter what they may be. The men of the lowlands and borderlands know not what they do in attempting to threaten us. Do I have your word?”

“Aye, you have it.” Ewan spoke first. “Our only squabble is with the amount of men we are written to send. A few men have recently grown injured, or chosen to retire from life as a warrior. It will be a difference of no less than ten men should the Mackenzies attack when the ground thaws.”

Less men wasn’t ideal, but his changes were by far less troublesome than Harry had expected.

“So be it,” Harry agreed, turning his attention to Liam.

Liam cleared his throat and Harry could feel Louis tense somewhere over his right shoulder. “We have had our men here for awhile now.”

“Which we are very grateful for,” Harry added.

“You’re welcome. But it’s time they came home to their families. It will be a long winter ahead. I request they return with me when the celebrations have finished.”

Harry knew that was coming, it had been in the missive Liam sent, but it still sent a sharp jab through his heart. “Of course.”

“We were also hoping to begin hunting on your lands as soon as possible to help store up for the winter. Instead of after the first thaw.”

This, again, was a manageable demand. Each breath Harry took grew easier and easier.

“Very well,” he said. “Does anyone have any other provisions to add?”

Neither laird did, and Harry felt his lungs flood with oxygen for what felt like the first time since he had heard about the threat of a Mackenzie invasion.

“So it is written. Father McCrae will add the provisions laid out right now and we’ll sign.”

They all went through the process of signing the treaty and sealing it with the crests of their clans. It was all a lot of pomp and circumstance that came with being laird.

 

Later than night when all was said and done, Harry blinked up at his ceiling. Despite the easing of his woes, something still gnawed at him.

Or perhaps it was a feeling he had buried that he was only now setting free.

Louis.

Niall and Aileen would be handfasted in the morning, and all Harry could think about was having that sort of intimacy with someone. Promising his life and his destiny to them.

Harry might never get the chance to offer it to a partner, lover, arrangement. But there was a possibility that lurked at the back of his mind. A possibility that he might be able to have the next best thing.

Louis would be leaving his clan within the week. Harry couldn’t help feeling that he owed it to himself to get even just a glimpse of what it might have been like between them if he could.

He only hoped Louis felt the same way.

 

The next day dawned clear and bright for the ceremony despite the extra chill in the air. Harry took Niall to the kirke separately where they waited with Father McCrae for everyone else to arrive. They prayed together privately with the Father to prepare for their part in the ceremony before the benches were filled.

At heart, Harry was a romantic. When he was a child he snuck into the kirke to watch handfasting ceremonies even if he wasn’t supposed to be there. Maybe it was a fascination with something that was out of reach for him, or maybe it was a simple desire to see the people that he cared about at their happiest.

Either way, nothing made him happier than seeing two of his best friends be joined together. The woven cords made especially for them were wrapped around their hands and blessed, and they both drank from the quaich and toasted each other.

It had been a very long time indeed since the clan had felt this light. Everyone seemed lifted and buoyant, Harry especially. As the whole clan and all of their visitors followed the couple and the priest back to the keep, he couldn’t help but watch Louis. He was so graceful in the way he moved, as though nature, the very land and air around him, adapted to him and where he was going, not the other way around.

His breath crystallized in the air as he turned his head to speak to Liam, showing off the delicate line of his profile. While Harry had been pushing Louis to the back of his mind he had done his best to ignore that which made Louis so special. He was by far the most beautiful person Harry had ever seen. He was courageous and strong with the quick, sharp mind of a warrior, but one who knew the importance and love of those around him, most especially his family.

The way his eyes softened when he talked about his siblings was mesmerizing, and it made Harry’s breath catch every time he saw it.

Harry’s mother stepped through his line of vision, breaking the spell.

“This was a shrewd move my dear,” she said under her breath.

Harry was taken aback. “I did not mean it to be. What do you mean?”

Anne reached down to get a better grip on her skirts as the walked. “You may not have meant it to be, but it lifted morale very effectively”

“I just didn’t want them to have to wait any more,” he replied.

She reached her hand up to caress his cheek. “I know darling.” There was something she was leaving unsaid between them as she dropped her hand and walked away, and Harry couldn’t help but wonder what she meant by it all.

When he looked back up at Louis, he was still talking to Liam. They had their heads bowed together and looked somewhat serious for such a celebratory day.

 

The feast that followed the ceremony was one of epic proportions just as Harry predicted it would be. They were well into the celebrations with wine flowing, music playing, and plenty of dancing with Niall and Aileen at the center of it all.

Harry’s worry that everyone would get enough to eat, or have enough to drink wouldn’t ever really go away as long as he was laird of his clan, but even he joined in the reveling the way he had in his youth.

And that was truly what the euphoric joy reminded him of—a time before his father, before responsibility.

Harry took a few dances with his sister before being passed to Aileen. As they wove in and out of their clansmen and their guests, she was more reserved, holding back something of herself with Harry. When the dance ended, she grabbed his hand and led him over to get some ale.

“Niall told me, you know,” she said as Harry poured himself a drink.

His blood froze in his veins. “Told you what?”

“What you talked about,” she said softly. “Why my desire to wait for a lady to come take my place was futile.”

Harry bowed his head. “I’m sorry.”

Aileen cupped his face and lifted his gaze before wrapping him in a hug. “Nonsense. I wanted to thank you for telling him. He said you were the one who forced him into actually asking for my hand.”

Harry took a deep breath and turned his face into the tangle of her hair but couldn’t bring himself to say anything in response.

When they untangled themselves she leaned back. “I will run your household proudly as long as you need me to, until I’m old and grey.”

Tears stung at the corners of Harry’s eyes and he sniffled in defense to keep them from flowing. “Thank you.”

“Nonsense,” she repeated as she wiped her own tears and took his hand. “Another dance?”

Harry laughed and refused. “You wore me out, woman! You’re Niall’s problem now,” he spun her around so she could see her new husband approaching. Pure joy and happiness radiated off of her as she threw her arms around his shoulders. Niall gathered her up and set off with her around the room.

Harry watched them in the waning light of the afternoon. A few of the serving women were lighting candles as the natural light from outside grew dimmer with the shortening days.

“Such a serious moment for such a happy occasion.” Louis’ voice cut through the air around him, but he hadn’t seen him in a while. He turned his head, searching for his approach and when he finally saw him, Harry melted. In the warmth of the room and with exertion from dancing, Louis had removed all of his outer layers of furs, leaving him in only a tunic and braies. The fabric was slightly dampened at the apex of his chest, and Harry could see the glistening skin at his hairline and down his neck.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Harry asked, pointedly ignoring the implied question.

“I am,” Louis replied, studying Harry. “Up until a moment ago, I thought you were as well.”

“I still am,” Harry insisted.

Louis turned to face the room and watch the revelers. “There were an awful lot of tears for something to be called enjoyment.”

Again, Harry didn’t answer. He was worried if he tried to explain to Louis what Aileen was saying, the whole story would come tumbling out, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for that just yet.

He rounded the head table to sit down in his seat in front of his now abandoned trencher. Louis followed him, filling Niall’s usual seat next to him. No one else was sitting at the head table, having all gotten up to join the festivities. Separated from the rest of the great hall as they were behind the table, if felt as though they were closed off from the world.

They sat in silence for a few moments watching everyone around them.

“It looks good on you, laird,” Louis murmured, for Harry’s ears only.

He blinked confusedly at Louis who looked so soft and unassuming in the candlelight. “What does?” He couldn’t resist leaning into Louis’ space under the guise of hearing him over the din of the room. This close, he could feel the heat of skin. He smelled earthy, sinful, real. Harry eyed the damp patches of his skin again. He wanted to taste him.

“All of this. Today,” he gestured around the room before letting his gaze trail down Harry’s body. The path it took singed across Harry’s consciousness. “I’ve never seen you like this before.”

“Like what?” he asked, breathless for the answer.

“Relaxed. Free. Any number of things that a young man should feel.”

There was a depth and heaviness to his words. Whatever was between them grew steadily closer every day. Every moment.

Something like hope sung in Harry’s chest and he wanted to say something to Louis, proposition him the way he had thought about a million times over, but at the last moment, cynicism took hold instead.

“I may look free today, but I promise you, I’m not.”

Louis’ eyes shuttered briefly. “You’re freer than you think, Harry.” With that, he stood to rejoin the dancing, leaving Harry alone behind the head table.

 

Louis’ parting words stayed with Harry for the remainder of the evening. As the celebrations drew to a close, they all found themselves drawn together around the hearth once again telling stories about Niall and Aileen from their youth.

The pair of them were once again intimately tangled up in each other, and couldn’t keep their hands off each other, so Harry was counting the seconds until they would make their excuses and retire.

The whole scene was so very similar to the night just a week or so before on the night of their betrothal. Harry’s memories from that night were clouded by one thing: Louis.

That night, Louis got straight to the heart of the problem, assuring Harry that what he had done in the past, inadvertently or not, didn’t matter, all that mattered was that Niall and Aileen were happy.

Louis had laid his hand upon Harry’s arm and scalded his skin with his fingertips, then sent him molten looks across the room. Harry had been tipsy and bold and could not feign innocence.

Shaking off the past, Harry sought Louis out where he was leaning against the wall talking to Liam, Duncan, and a few of the other men. Just like that, their gazes locked.

Harry struggled to take a breath in as the world continued to move around them.

In a few days, Louis would be gone. Back to his clansmen and his family. Harry’s body ached to be held by him even if it was only for one night.

He needed to know what it felt like.

Before he knew what he was doing, his feet were carrying him over to the group of men that were gathered there. He greeted Duncan and clapped him on the shoulder while inserting his body in the gap between his brother-in-law and Louis.

Whatever he managed to say had to have been successful enough small talk, because the men didn’t question him and continued on with their conversation. After a safe few seconds in which he could barely concentrate on anything beyond his pounding heart beat, he leaned over to whisper in Louis’ ear.

This close to him, Harry had to fight all of his instincts to bury his face in Louis’ neck and cuddle in closer.

“I’m going to go upstairs. Wait for a moment, then meet me up there.”

When he leaned back Louis looked dumbstruck for the barest moment before his eyes crinkled and he forced out some raucous laughter. Harry would have been worried that he misunderstood all of the signals Louis had been sending him for weeks if not for the way his jaw ticked, and his glance was smoldering.

“What’s so funny?” Liam asked from a few feet away.

Louis was quicker on his feet than Harry was. “Stephen apparently told Harry he’s faster than I am, and our noble laird here got him back with a jest about how that’s not as admirable as he thinks.”

The lie slid easily off Louis’ tongue and Harry couldn’t help but blush at the tawdry joke given what he was so clearly proposing privately.

“Gentlemen,” Harry said once their laughter had died down. “Enjoy yourselves. I’m going to retire.”

His companions made a few jokes at his expense about he couldn’t keep up with them, their mood only exacerbated by what Louis had made up about Stephen. Harry looked around the room so he could say goodnight to Niall and Aileen, but their chair had been abandoned and they were nowhere to be found.

He bit down on a grin and tried his best to look tired, really sell the part. In reality, he was anything but ready to retire.

With the rest of his guests occupied, Harry snuck upstairs. All he had to do was wait in his chambers for Louis.

Almost immediately doubts began churning through his mind. He worried that Louis didn’t feel the same way, wouldn’t understand the message, wouldn’t know where to go, any number of things.

Harry had too much restless energy and couldn’t sit down. He began to pace the length of his chambers. Adding logs to the fire didn’t do much, they didn’t kill enough time. He told Louis to wait a few minutes, but he should have just had him come up at the same time. No one would have noticed.

That was untrue, everyone would have noticed.

Finally, after what felt like an age, there was a brisk knock on Harry’s chamber door. He almost ripped it off its hinges opening it.

In front of him was Louis. Alone. Coming to his chambers. Harry stepped aside to let him into the room. Once he was inside, Harry had no idea what to do.

“Hello,” he said awkwardly shifting his weight as Louis watched him.

Louis had never been in his chambers before, and where Harry expected him to be the least bit curious, he didn’t spare a glance for his surroundings so fixed was his gaze on Harry.

Instead of answering, Louis crowded into Harry’s space, making his breath hitch, backing him up against the stone wall of the chamber.

“Why did you invite me up here, Harry?” Louis questioned him carefully even as he continued to back Harry up towards the wall.

“I—” Harry faltered, not brave enough yet to explain his burst of courage belowstairs. He hissed as his back hit the rough cut, frigid stone and Louis brought his hands up to press against it and box him in.

“Why, Harry?” he said softly, ducking into breathe against Harry’s jawline but not touching him. If he did breach the space, he would be nuzzling it the way Harry had dreamed about doing to him earlier.

Louis’ sudden presence, and the teasing edge to his offensive was messing with Harry’s mind. He was dragging sharp shallow breaths in to steady himself, and all of his blood was rushing down his body and pooling in his groin. His cock thickened and he pressed his hips back against the wall, letting the sharp edges of the stone bite into the linen of his tunic rather than let on how desperate he was for Louis.

“I—I wanted to know what it felt like,” he blurted out all at once.

Louis leaned back so he could look Harry in the eye. “It?”

“You,” Harry’s voice broke. “I wanted to know what you felt like.”

Louis didn’t press his lips to Harry’s skin, but he did let the tip of his nose graze against where Harry’s neck met his collar bone, biding his time.

“Why now?” he whispered. If they hadn’t been standing so close together, Harry never would have been able to hear him.

Harry swallowed heavily and tilted his head back against the wall to offer Louis easier access. “You’re leaving in a few days.”

Louis’ spine stiffened. “That makes me a problem that goes away soon,” he bit out as he put some distance between them.

Harry choked on air trying to reassure him too quickly. “No, no. Nothing like that at all.” He coughed a few times to recover. Once he had recovered, he watched his own hand come up and curl around Louis’ stiff bicep. “I never would have been able to forgive myself if you had gone away without knowing how I felt. That I wanted this.”

Slowly, and much more gradually than he had retreated, Louis leaned back in to crowd into Harry once again.

“Do you? Have you ever had this with anyone before?” Louis asked, his eyes searching Harry’s.

“No, never. Just kissed a few friends when I was young,” Harry replied. “You?” As soon as he asked the question he wanted to take it back. He didn’t want to know the answer, didn’t want to know about anyone else Louis had been with before him.

“A few times,” he said making Harry’s stomach churn. “In France when I was a much younger man.”

He reached up to cup Harry’s jaw and let his fingers dig under the plaits in Harry’s hair and nestle against the nape of his neck. The pad of his thumb drew back and forth across the plane of Harry’s cheek.

With his eyes, he asked if Harry was ready. Harry felt like he was standing on a precipice. All that lay before him was the depth of an abyss, intimidating and terrifying. But all that he had to gain from staying on the edge was the promise of an empty, unknowing life.

Harry leaned down, meeting Louis halfway.

The barest touch of their lips was electric. Waves of pleasure tingled along Harry’s skin as he tasted Louis for the first time. The tender spit slicked skin of Louis’ lips dragged along Harry’s as he let him get used to the sensation.

Harry had to admit, it had been awhile since he had been this close to someone, and it felt nothing like he remembered. When he was younger, attempting to fumble his way through kissing one of the young ladies of the clan for the first time to see what it felt like, he had been underwhelmed.

Now, it was as though his skin was too tight for his body. Every hair stood on end and he was sensitive to the slightest touch.

Louis relaxed into him until their chests were pressed together. The stone of the wall had warmed to Harry’s skin and all that was left was the bite of the coarse rock that added an edge to his pleasure.

Harry moaned unabashedly as Lous drew his tongue along the seam of his lips, the movement opened his mouth allowing Louis entry. When he was settled into it, Louis shifted his weight, straddling only one of Harry’s legs.

He didn’t notice the difference until Louis pressed the hot, heavy, weight of his bulge insistently against Harry’s hip.

Swamped with the desire to touch him, taste him, anything, Harry pushed up off the wall for the first time. Louis readjusted, gripping the linen of Harry’s tunic tight against his body and moving them backwards towards his bed. Their lips felt permanently fused together for all that Harry couldn’t bear the thought of not kissing him.

When they reached the edge of the bed, Louis spun them slowly, reaching down to Harry’s waist to gingerly untie the belt around the waist of his tunic. Because of his clan’s propensity for weaving, the belt was a combination of linen and fine leather. Louis threw it behind Harry and it landed on the pile of furs on his bed that he had been steadily adding to as the nights grew longer and colder.

Louis gripped the hem of his tunic and lifted it over Harry’s head quickly, catching a bit on one of the longer plaits that laid over the rest of his hair. Harry couldn’t help the grin as Louis tried to work around them.

Sick of how one sided the exercise was, Harry rushed to even the score. He divested Louis of his tunic as well, and intended to continue, but found himself struck dumb by the sight of Louis’ chest.

There was such a wide expanse of skin that remained unexplored. Harry couldn’t help but bring a hand up to trace the muscle definition on his sternum below his throat, where the shadow of auburn chest hair started. He hadn’t expected that.

His finger trailed down the center of his chest until he reached the top of Louis’ braies. Louis’ cock was straining against the leather, straining to get free, and Harry couldn’t wait any more. He leaned in to press a kiss to Louis’ mouth, then his jaw, then he began to retrace the path his hands had already blazed.

The hair on Louis’ chest tickled the skin of his lips as he continued downward as far as he could go. Eventually he moved to kneel on the floor, bringing him face to face with the darker, sweat dampened hair that led under the placket of his braies. Harry leaned in to press a kiss there as well before darting his tongue out to taste the taut skin there.

“Harry—” Louis choked out as he threw his head back. Harry couldn’t tell if he wanted him to stop or keep going. Without a definitive direction he ploughed on, hooking a finger under the thin ropes that bound the placket. The knot Louis had tied in the laces was flimsy, and it only took a few more tugs until the base of his cock was revealed to Harry.

Harry continued to worship Louis’ most intimate skin even as he reached up higher on his hips to roll the trousers all the way down. Once they were clear of his hips the tight confines of the leather caught around Louis’ thighs and he had to push it free, but Harry got distracted by the way his hard cock was finally free, standing at attention.

The heady scent of sweat and _Louis_ that Harry had marveled at earlier returned as he took a deep breath for courage before pressing kisses along his shaft. His mouth watered with the longing to take him in his mouth.

This was a night for the fulfillment of all Harry’s deepest desires. He wasn’t going to hesitate any longer.

With no warning to Louis, Harry flattened his palms around Louis’ hips, bracketing them, and wrapping his hands around them until the tips of his fingers brushed the soft skin of Louis’ arse. Harry closed his lips around the head of Louis’ cock and began to draw him into his mouth.

Louis swore loudly and curled his hands tightly in Harry’s hair. He started to guide Harry’s head but quickly stopped, consciously relaxing his grip.

The sensation of having Louis in his mouth was like nothing Harry had ever felt before. Louis tasted warm and earthy and Harry felt a surge of power knowing that he had affected him so deeply. The sharp tugging at his scalp burned and made him feel like he had no control over his own movements, it all sent shockwaves through him as he keened and squeezed his legs together to try and relieve some of the pressure on his own cock.

“I’m sorry,” Louis mumbled tapering off into a moan.

Harry pulled back, freeing his mouth. “Help me,” he croaked out, loosening his death grip on Louis’ hips to cover one of Louis’ hands with his.

Louis swore again even more colorfully this time as he nodded in agreement and Harry brought his hand back to where it had been, taking his cock in his mouth again.

His mouth felt so full. All of his senses were completely overrun with Louis. The warmth of Louis’ skin, the glide of his cock in his mouth, the way he guided Harry up and down so tentatively, afraid of hurting him even though he said he had wanted it.

Harry relaxed his throat to try and take him even farther and it worked for a moment before Louis gave a sharp shout and drew him completely off his cock.

They both were panting heavily as Louis reached down to haul Harry up off the stone floor. His knees popped a bit but he barely registered it.

“Why did you stop?” he asked hoarsely. He hadn’t wanted to sound so insecure but he couldn’t help it.

Louis kissed him roughly before pushing him to the side. He made quick work of rearranging the layers of furs on Harry’s bed so that the prickly mattress was completely covered but there were still layers left to protect them from the chill.

When he was done he cupped Harry’s jaw again. “I needed a moment,” he breathed into Harry’s mouth. “You felt so good, I did not want this to be over before it began.”

He pressed his palms against Harry’s chest, urging him to lie back on the bed. It wasn’t until Harry bent his knee to climb on that he realized his cock was still painfully trapped in his own trousers.

Louis laughed and immediately went to help when Harry hissed and recoiled. Their fingers tangled together as they both tried to undo his laces.

“Let me,” Louis said softly. He began to mirror what Harry had done to him. As he untied Harry’s trousers, he teased his own kisses down Harry’s chest.

The room was growing warmer as the fire had built back up again and all Harry could feel was a shift in the air from Louis’ body and the light, teasing presses of his lips. When he was finished, he helped Harry step out of his braies. Instead of dropping to his knees as Harry had, he pressed on Harry’s chest again.

Naked this time, it was much easier for Harry to climb on the straw mattress covered with furs. Because Louis had taken the time to spread them out, Harry felt nothing but softness and warmth as he laid down on his back.

What he hadn’t anticipated, though, was the anxiety that began seeping in as Louis climbed up to join him. Distracting thoughts of his clan, Louis’ clan, Louis leaving, and Louis’ prior experience started running rampant in Harry’s mind. Tension began to crawl up his body, but he tried to breathe through it so he didn’t ruin the evening.

“Harry,” Louis said as he laid out over Harry’s body completely. He was still hard, and Harry was growing softer, but even just the skin to skin contact was helping him calm down. “Where did you go?” he asked.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Louis began drawing his fingers through Harry’s curls at a gentle, steady pace. “It’s difficult, as someone who cares about you, to watch you worry so much.”

The strum of his fingers was grounding enough that Harry’s mind began to clear. Louis met his gaze with an intensity Harry wasn’t expecting.

“You do so much for your clan, you provide for them, you take their burden and make it your own.”

Harry opened his mouth to argue but Louis placed a finger across his lips. “All of that is admirable, and it makes you a wonderful leader. But if you shoulder everything with no reprieve you will be crushed under the pressure.” Louis glided his rough palms down Harry’s neck and across the tops of his shoulders. “Please, let me take care of you for awhile. Let me help you forget everything outside this room.”

Louis pressed a kiss along Harry’s cheekbone and trailed down until he met his mouth once again. In contrast to their kiss earlier this one was gentle, tentative, his way of asking Harry if it was okay to keep going.

Harry wanted that more than anything. He wanted Louis to help him clear his head so that all he needed to concentrate on was Louis himself.

He craned his neck to deepen the kiss and bring them back to where they had been. Letting his hands wander now, he traced the solid planes of muscle in Louis back. In little to no time at all there was a sinful edge to the way Louis pressed against him, overwhelming his senses once again.

Louis lowered his hips and rolled them into Harry’s rhythmically, sensually, providing friction to help him get back to where he had been.

Harry drew his legs up until his knees were bent and he had created a valley between them for Louis to get closer to him, ever closer. For all of his lack of experience, he knew what he was implying, and he was nervous but he craved it. When he was on his own, he had tried a few times, to fill himself with his fingers to see what it felt like.

They moaned simultaneously when Louis hit just the right spot, grinding their cocks together. Harry was leaking enough in anticipation that it made the glide amazing.

Louis broke their kiss with a pop. “Are you sure, Harry,” he panted. “This is what you want?”

Harry nodded frantically. “Please.”

Louis sounded pained as he lifted himself off Harry, breaking their connection if only for a moment. Harry only blushed a little at the needy grunt that left him when he realized what was happening.

“I need—You need something to help,” he said, desperately searching Harry’s chamber.

Harry cast his mind back to what he had used. “Salve. There is a jar of salve,” he said pointing to the small table with his stone wash basin. Louis leapt off the bed and searched the surface around the basin. He must have found it because he had barely been gone a moment before he was back crowding over Harry, kissing him again, nestled between his thighs.

This time, though, when he began exploring he wrapped his fingers around Harry’s cock. So far, Harry hadn’t had much friction on his cock and the instant stimulation was intense. He threw his head back into the pillows.

“Louis,” he cried out, not knowing what to ask for.

“I’ll take care of you,” Louis promised.

Louis dragged his hand covered in salve up and down Harry’s shaft a few times slowly, letting him relax into the feeling before he trailed down and brushed the tips of his fingers against Harry’s entrance. He fused their mouths together forcefully as he pressed one finger inside of him.

Harry choked on air at the fullness as Louis twisted his finger in and out before adding a second one. Whenever he tried himself he could never get a good angle, but the sure way Louis filled him made him shiver. As he got used to it, he began shifting his hips to meet the rhythm of Louis’ fingers.

He felt like Louis’ touch was just on the edge of something amazing, but now that he had grown accustomed to his hands, he needed something else to get there. He wanted to feel connected to Louis in the most intimate way he could.

Louis sat back on his heels and soothed the soft skin of Harry’s inner thighs as he continued to press in and out of him.

“You’re so beautiful, laird,” he whispered as he leaned down to take Harry in his mouth.

Harry’s hips stuttered as Louis’ warmth wrapped around him and he suddenly understood with perfect clarity why Louis had stopped him from going too far earlier.

He couldn’t decide whether to let himself drown in the sensation or pull back. “It’s too much. Louis,” his voice broke.

Louis pulled off immediately and reached for the salve again to slick up his cock before lining himself up at Harry’s entrance.

When he pressed in, Harry was ready. Louis had taken his time with his body and prepared him and all he felt was the fullness he craved. His cock was larger than his fingers, so it took an extra moment to acclimate to the feeling, but Louis waited, leaning down to nip at Harry’s bottom lip before easing into a blistering kiss.

Harry’s back arched and he looped his arms around Louis’ neck for support as Louis began to move, dragging his cock out slowly making sure he stayed back long enough that Harry grew to miss the fullness before thrusting back in.

The first thrust knocked the wind out of Harry, and Louis never let him recover. Each thrust went deeper and deeper than the one before. Harry finally got his bearings enough for his hips to respond, lifting to meet him each time, when Louis hit something inside Harry that it lit him from the inside out. Sparks shot through his nerve endings from the base of his spine and it was a pleasure like nothing he had ever felt before.

“Oh, _bloody_ hell, right there. Just like that,” Harry cried out.

Once Louis found the right angle, he focused on hitting that spot each and every time. Harry was moaning unabashedly and had long since tangled one of his hands in Louis’ own plaits while the other rested farther down at the small of his back.

Louis’ nose teased against Harry’s jaw and he could hear the soft little grunts Louis made each time he thrust inside him, and could feel his hot breath as he panted against the sensitive skin of his ear.

“You feel so good,” he reached between their bodies and began to stroke Harry’s cock. “Like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I can’t hold on,” Louis ground out.

His thrusts grew erratic and his grip loosened around Harry as he threw his head back and moaned. Harry started pushing back against him frantically, searching for the same feeling building inside him just out of reach.

When Louis recovered, he winced a bit from sensitivity as he pulled out.

“No,” Harry whimpered, chasing the fullness. He didn’t stay disappointed for long as Louis thrust three fingers inside him and lowered his mouth over his cock again. He opened his throat and took Harry as deep as he could. All Harry could register was warmth and fullness and it became too much for him, sending him over the edge.

Louis eased his fingers out one at a time, letting Harry ride out the aftershocks.

Harry’s ears were ringing and every fiber of the fur below him pricked at his skin. Through his haze, he managed to register Louis getting up and the sound of water being displaced in the wash basin. He raised his torso up on his elbows to see what he was doing and wanted to reach out for him, but a silence had settled over them that he wasn’t sure how to breach.

When Louis turned around to come back with a damp linen in his hand, he looked up and found Harry watching him. His step faltered and he paused, giving Harry his own once over. Harry could only imagine the picture he made naked, covered in sweat and everything else. Not to mention the regular grime of what had been a very long day of celebrating.

Louis resumed his path back to the bed and climbed on with the linen in hand. “Do you remember earlier when I told you the freedom of the day looked beautiful on you?”

He started methodically cleaning every inch of Harry’s skin, starting with his abdomen where he was covered in his own release.

At the time, Harry’s response had been that he wasn’t as free as he seemed. Despite everything that happened in the few hours since then, it was a sobering reminder of the reality of his life. One that he didn’t want to face quite yet.

“Yes, I remember.”

Louis paused before moving down to clean his inner thighs. “This looks better.”

Harry chuckled and relaxed back against the furs, breathing deeply, letting Louis wash him. By the time Louis was done, Harry could feel every inch of his skin but it had faded from an intense awareness and sensitivity to a pleasant hum all over.

Louis returned to the basin, dipped the cloth again and wrung it out before doing a much more cursory job on himself.

Harry wasn’t sure what to expect. Half of him thought Louis might leave to go back to his own chambers, go back to the dwindling feast downstairs, do anything else besides what Harry really wanted.

Because Harry had no idea how to voice what it was he really wanted. He wanted Louis to stay there in his chambers, away from the rest of the world. He wanted Louis to hold him, feel the warmth of another person’s skin against his own.

He held his breath as he waited to see what Louis would do.

His lungs began to burn with disuse as Louis finished washing himself and immediately turned towards the bed and climbed on to join Harry.

Legs laid out in front of him, Louis reached down, wiggling his fingers as he tried to grip the edge of the extra layer of furs. Gaining purchase, he crowed triumphantly and drew the pelt up and over their bodies until it reached their chests.

Louis settled next to him and drew his hand across his abdomen with a smile on his face and it was so close to what Harry wanted, so tantalizingly close, that he broke.

“I’m still not free.” It came out harsher than he intended. “This hasn’t changed anything.”

As soon as the words were in the air, he wanted to pull them back.

The hand on his stomach stopped moving, but Louis didn’t pull it away. Instead he sighed deeply.

“I know,” he answered. “I’m not free either.”

Harry couldn’t stand not looking at him for another single second, so he turned onto his side to face him fully. Louis did pull his hand away this time, but it immediately returned to brush Harry’s escaped hair back away from his forehead and tuck it behind his ear.

“I have to go home with Liam. I have to go back to my family.”

Instinctively, Harry knew that to be true. He may have secretly wished deep in his heart of hearts that Louis would stay at Clan Edwards with him, but that would have been astonishingly selfish on Harry’s part. And he knew that, he did, but the confirmation still sent ice through his heart.

“I know,” Harry echoed.

Louis leaned up and pressed a kiss to Harry’s forehead. The intimacy of the moment was like a final crushing blow.

“Even if I stayed,” Louis started. “You would still have to… You would still be laird.”

Harry didn’t answer, there was nothing he could say. They both knew it was true.

“Earlier, when I said you were freer than you thought. This was what I meant,” Louis said pressing his palm flat against the bare skin of Harry’s chest. “No matter what your duties might be, no matter what they ask of you, you are always free to _feel.”_

Harry understood that, or at least he thought he did, but when Louis said it out loud, he could feel tears burning, begging to be let go. He blinked a few times and brought his hand up to cover Louis’. “I’ve never… before. Before you.”

Louis left his hand on Harry’s chest, stroking his thumb back and forth over the skin. “I have before, but never like this.”

Harry still didn’t know how to express everything he felt for Louis, and with Louis’ imminent departure, didn’t know if he should. Instead, he kissed him fiercely. Too fiercely for how subdued he felt physically, and the soft, quiet, dimness of the room, but he needed Louis to know at least a small fraction of what he felt for him.

The intensity seeped out of him, but he found he didn’t want to stop kissing Louis. He wanted to stay there and kiss him for hours. So he did.

They traded kisses back and forth curled up in bed together until the few candles he had lit burned out and the fire had faded to embers. They broke apart at last after Louis had shivered one too many times in the chill of the room, Harry laughed and emerged from their cocoon to stoke the fire and make sure the furs were tied tightly against the windows.

When he returned he got back under the furs facing the other way and Louis gathered him up in his arms against his chest.

Harry was so tired he felt it deep in his bones, but his body was warm and content and his lips were tingly and numb, and there was something so comforting about having someone else wrapped around him.

He fell asleep within moments, protected and safe.

 

Harry once again woke with the roosters at dawn as he did every morning. It was not every morning, though, that there was a heavy weight draped across his chest and a warm body pressed up against every inch of him.

Louis’ hand twitched and Harry listened to the sounds of him coming awake as well. He groaned and shifted, stretching his body in a contained way. It had the desired effect of Louis pressing his hips against Harry in a much more pronounced way.

Harry’s own cock throbbed between his legs as he felt Louis nestle his hardness between the ridge of Harry’s cheeks. He couldn’t help the hiss of pleasure that escaped him.

“Good morning,” Louis rasped.

Harry grunted in response as he felt Louis’ fingers dance around his entrance. He was a little sore from the night before, but not sore enough that it would prevent him from trying to experience it again.

Cool air brushed across Harry’s skin where Louis had been, and his magical hands disappeared, but his hips stayed firmly planted in place. When his hands returned, it was evident he had been looking for the salve. He reached down and tapped the underside of Harry’s thigh until he drew his knee closer to his chest, opening himself up for Louis.

His now slick fingers continued to tease without it going anywhere.

“Please, Lou, I’m ready,” he begged, his voice sounding ragged with disuse.

“Ah, there you are,” Louis said on a laugh as he pressed two fingers into Harry right away. After a few moments and barely any preparation compared to the night before, Louis pushed into him.

Because of the way they were wrapped up, Louis couldn’t get the purchase for the same long strokes, so he stayed deep inside Harry with short thrusts at a leisurely pace.

The heady, climbing arousal of the morning hummed low within him, building and building with much less desperation this time. Harry knew what was happening, and knew it would happen, so all he could do was ride the waves of pleasure.

He turned his face into the plush down of the pillow to muffle the endless noises he was making.

Louis pulled his shoulder back to release him. “I want to hear you. I want to hear how good it feels,” he moaned.

As if a spell was broken, Harry reached back around Louis’ hips to try and push him closer to move faster. All it did was make him slow down.

Louis removed his hand and laced their fingers together to bring Harry’s hand back in front of his own chest. Harry’s shoulder curled inwards, to make himself smaller. Louis was caging him in and he loved it.

“I appreciate the effort, laird. But I’m going to keep you in this bed as long as I possibly can. Nothing you can do will help,” he whispered in Harry’s ear, nipping at the lobe with his teeth before soothing it with his lips and tongue.

Harry’s breath hitched as he tried to fight Louis’ grip and move his hand back so he could hold on to Louis again, but he was too strong. His release was just out of reach again and the slow and steady pace Louis hadn’t wavered from wasn’t going to get him there fast enough. He craved it.

“Harder, please,” Harry drew out on a broken groan.

Louis stopped moving before slowly drawing all the way out of his body. Harry whimpered at the loss.

“Laird, I know you’re used to getting your way, but you’re just going to have to wait,” Louis teased. He drew the furs back completely, leaving Harry open and exposed to the room. He gripped Harry’s hips tightly and manipulated his body until Harry was lying flat on his front against the mattress.

Louis trailed his hands down and squeezed the muscles of his arse, kneading them forcefully. Harry couldn’t see him and wasn’t prepared for the softness of Louis’ lips when they replaced his hands, pressing kisses along the dip in Harry’s spine and all over the surface he had been massaging.

He squirmed backwards lifting his hips into the sensation of the scruff on Louis’ jaw scraping across his skin.

Louis laughed. “I thought I said to stay still.”

Harry couldn’t help it. His every nerve ending was singing, desperate to pick up where they left off.

The situation grew even more dire when Louis disappeared all together, lifting off Harry’s body to reach for something on the floor.

“This should help,” he said as Harry could hear him fiddling with something. “I think you should learn, laird, what it is to be at someone’s mercy.”

Harry shivered with arousal as he felt fabric brush across his back. Louis brought his hands together, and began wrapping a cord around them, securing them in place against the skin he had kissed so gently moments before.

Harry keened and arched his back, almost unseating Louis.

“This doesn’t seem to making much of a difference.” Louis pressed the heels of his palms against Harry’s hips to hold him down before lifting one off to guide his cock back inside Harry. When he was fully seated, deliciously deep inside him once again, his hand returned to bracket Harry’s hips.

Harry tested the limits of his bindings. There was no give in the leather of what he could only assume was the belt Louis had discarded the night before. When he couldn’t move, he let his neck relax and turned his head to the side.

He could barely see Louis out of the corner of his eye as he started to pull out and push back into him. The angle was new and tight and deep and completely overwhelming.

With his hands bound behind his back he was once again in a position where he could do nothing but receive whatever Louis wanted to give him. And once again, all Louis gave him was slow, steady strokes.

“Lou,” he moaned.

Louis continued at his own pace despite Harry’s begging, pushing short breaths out of Harry every time he bottomed out.

Finally, instead of pulling Harry’s hips towards him, he suddenly changed direction and pressed Harry’s hips down as far as he could into the pelts below him.The silken texture teased his cock as Louis began to pick up speed.

Off balance from his hands being tied, Harry steadied himself and squeezed his eyes shut to let his other senses take over. The stimulation from both Louis working himself in and out and finally getting some friction on his cock didn’t take long to send Harry flying and his whole body tensed as he tested the limits of the belt around his wrists. Because it had been such a slow and steady build, he felt like his release was somehow less sharp than it had been the night before, but no less overwhelming. He could feel every inch of his body throb with awareness even the tips of his fingers and toes.

Louis paused for a moment as Harry clenched and released around him, but started back up again for another few thrusts that made Harry tingle with oversensitivity. It was only a few more moments before Louis found his release as well.

When he was finished, Louis held on long enough to undo the belt from around Harry’s wrists, but Harry couldn’t move. Couldn’t bring himself to flip over. He just laid there as Louis rubbed at the muscles in his arms to soothe them.

Just as he had the night before, Louis got up and wet a cloth to cleanse both his and Harry’s skin.

Harry’s breath hitched when he thought about all the ways Louis had taken care of him. He thought about his friends and his mother and his sister and about how they all loved him and he was blessed by that love, but they couldn’t love him or take care of him like this. To that end, he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to find someone else to fill the gap that Louis would leave behind.

Louis threw the cloth in the general direction of the basin and laid down on his back. That was enough to prompt Harry to drape himself across Louis’ chest and kiss him deeply. As a thank you of sorts.

“Mmph,” Louis was surprised by the kiss but relaxed into it as Harry continued. He was quickly becoming addicted to Louis’ mouth and finally forced himself to pull away. If he hadn’t, he wasn’t sure he would have stopped for the rest of the day.

“Good morning,” Louis said suggestively.

Harry tried to contain his laughter, but he couldn’t. They certainly had had a good morning. Draped the way he was, he laid one arm flat on Louis’ chest and propped his chin on top of it.

“I’m certain there is no better way to wake up,” he said.

Louis grinned in the soft light of the morning just barely peeking through around the coverings on the windows. If it was summertime, they wouldn’t need the insulation and Louis would be bathed in the warm glow of the sunrise.

But Louis would be gone by then. Back to his family.

And they had been in bed for quite some time past the first crow of the rooster.

Harry groaned and buried his face in Louis’ chest. “We’re very late.”

“Late for what?” Louis asked.

That gave Harry pause. “For…” Training? The morning meal? Life? It wasn’t one thing in particular, he was simply always up at dawn to start the day. “Everything.”

Louis raised his eyebrows and puffed out his cheeks in faux disbelief. “That is quite a lot to be late for.”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh again. Sometimes it felt like all he did around Louis was laugh. “You know what I mean. I’m _laird.”_

Louis flattened his palm on Harry’s back and began to rub soothing circles across his skin. “Oh yes, I’m aware. But as laird, surely you can have the morning off?”

When Harry hesitated, Louis kept pressing. “After last night, I’m fairly certain no one is going to miss us. If we get up now, we will be the only people belowstairs.”

Harry thought about the way his clan had celebrated yesterday in a way that hadn’t in a long time. “I suppose you’re right.”

They were quiet for a few moments, and now that he had been convinced, Harry was content to lay there in Louis’ arms for as long as he could.

“Selfishly,” Louis said breaking the silence. “I know I don’t have you for very long, and I would like to savor the time that I do have. If you’re amenable to that.”

Harry swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I think we can stay abed for a little while longer.”

 

In the end, they didn’t arise until the midday meal. Louis went down first, and Harry followed.

As he stared at the walls of his chamber, waiting the allotted five minutes before he could go down, he idly wondered how he ever filled the silence in the room before Louis.

They agreed before Louis went downstairs that they both had duties to perform, and they would only arouse further suspicion by disappearing again so they would wait and see each other after the evening meal when everyone retired.

Which meant Harry only had to get through the two meals, and the afternoon in between before he could secret Louis away again. To a place where they had privacy and no one demanded their attention, where the world was something small and special, just for them.

He lasted through half of the first meal.

It wasn’t even really his fault at all. Louis was entirely to blame. He spent the whole meal eating and laughing and generally existing in the most beautiful and serene way.

“Laird,” Niall leaned over to whisper in his ear. “Why are you staring at Louis like that?”

Harry blinked, startled, and turned to face Niall. “I wasn’t—Staring at him how?”

“Like you want eat him. Or run him through with your sword. Or both, come to think of it.”

That was entirely possible. “Am not,” Harry said crossing his arms like a petulant child while attempting to hide his blush.

Niall looked at him with caution before turning back to his conversation with Zayn.

Though he tried to fight it, his eyes did eventually drift back to Louis across the table who was staring at him with a questioning look in return. Harry shook his head infinitesimally but let his face soften into a smile so Louis knew everything was alright.

He would have remained strong. He would not have succumbed to Louis’ infinite beauty, except that one of the men must have said something funny, so Louis threw his head back and laughed.

Harry was not resilient enough to withstand such torture. He cleared his throat and kicked what he hoped was Louis’ foot under the expanse of the table. Louis didn’t flinch, but neither did anyone else so he had to assume he hit his mark.

Slowly, Louis raised an eyebrow at him questioningly and Harry had to ignore what that did to his steadily creeping arousal. In turn, he nodded towards the stairs to get up to his chambers in hopes that Louis would understand. Louis maintained steady eye contact with him and a neutral expression, until it finally cracked and he winked at Harry before nodding to indicate that he should leave first.

Taking his cue, Harry scraped his chair back and made what he hoped were excuses to Niall and his mother before bolting out of the hall to take the most roundabout way back to his chambers he could find.

 

Louis arrived an agonizingly long ten minutes later teasing him for his impatience. Harry’s only choice was to kiss Louis until he forgot how embarrassingly desperate his display at the table had been.

It took no time at all before their kisses had taken on a harder edge to them and they were both panting and moaning into each other’s mouths.

“Would you like to know what it feels like?” Louis asked his voice breathy and higher than Harry had ever heard it before. “How amazing it feels to be inside someone?”

Harry’s stomach swooped as he reached down to palm the muscles of Louis’ arse. He hadn’t really had time to consider trying it the other way around.

While Louis had been so kind and gentle with him, Harry hadn’t been in a state to pay much attention to the details, so he didn’t know what to do.

Noticing his nerves, Louis drew Harry on top of him and in the same methodical way he had done everything the night before, he talked Harry through covering his fingers in salve and finding the place inside him that would light him up from the inside out.

Harry was shaking with wonder by the time Louis declared himself ready for Harry’s cock. He thought it would be easiest if he was on his hands and knees in front of Harry, but Harry was certain the whole exercise had weakened his heart.

Finally, he flattened one hand on Louis’ back and used the other to guide himself in on a moan. Having survived his whole life with only the aid of his right hand, bottoming out inside the slick, warm vice of _Louis_ was pure ecstasy.

The closest he had ever come to any sensation like it was Louis’ mouth the night before.

Louis’ voice was airy and broken as he told Harry when to move, and begged him to go deeper.

The pleasure this way was different than it had been before. Before, he had been completely engulfed by Louis mind, body, and soul. This was the added gift of watching Louis fall apart and feeling him contract around his cock. It was too exquisite, and trying to hold onto it was futile.

“Louis,” he grunted as he desperately attempted to stave off his release. He reached down and gathered Louis to his chest, lifting them up far enough that Louis could lay his head back on Harry’s shoulder. At this angle, he felt impossibly tighter around his cock which didn’t help at all, but he could just manage to reach down and wrap his hand around Louis, letting his thumb brush against Louis’ abdomen.

In no time at all Louis was crying out and Harry was following him over the edge. They were both panting as they collapsed on the bed.

“I think it’s time for a nap,” Louis announced languidly.

Harry pushed his face into Louis’ neck and laughed. “We have not done a single thing. Besides, I’ve never taken an afternoon nap before.”

“Never?” Louis asked appalled. “I also resent the fact that you have dismissed such strenuous physical activity as ‘not doing a single thing.’”

Louis reached out to drag Harry’s body into his chest, and Harry found himself weaken in the face of spending an afternoon wrapped up in his arms.

 

Later, they forced themselves to go back down for the evening meal. Again, it seemed as though no one was the wiser. Despite being lost in a cloud of Louis, Harry concentrated on paying attention to his other guests whilst they ate. So far, the only person to ask about his whereabouts all day had been his mother, and a lie about patrolling the grounds had tripped awkwardly off his lips when he answered her.

The jovial mood around the keep had continued, the guests and the wedding had breathed new life into his clansmen. As Harry looked around the hall, the warm glow that Louis had sparked within him continued to grow.

“Where were you all day today, Louis?” Liam asked around a large bite of yeasty roll.

Harry froze, staring wide-eyed at his mug of ale as he did his best to avoid looking across the table. Making eye contact with Louis would give everything away. He just knew it.

“Training.” Louis was cool and even under pressure and his answer was so believable that Harry couldn’t help but look at him. His plan to not give himself away was well and truly sunk.

“Really?” Niall piped up. “I didn’t see you.” Harry was certain he was going to perish.

“I wasn’t on the training field,” Louis replied easily.

Liam’s brow furrowed. “You weren’t training on the training field?” He spoke slowly as though trying to think through what Louis had said.

Somewhere to Harry’s left, Gemma yelped and stood up quickly declaring that she was going to be sick. The whole table shifted. If Harry hadn’t been so terrified of Louis’ interrogation, he would have thought it amusing that grown men—warriors—were so terrified of a woman who was with child.

His mother immediately started fussing at people that surrounded them and demanded they all move out of the way so Gemma could escape. All of it was very dramatic and unnecessary and left Harry confused, but grateful for the distraction.

The whole episode provided enough of a misdirection that when all the hubbub died down the topic of conversation had shifted.

“Louis has dealt with sickness like that for most of his life.” Liam paused as everyone around the table laughed at the notion of Louis being with child.

For some reason Harry’s thoughts immediately tumbled down the path that if Louis had been a woman, Harry might have contributed to Louis being “with child” that afternoon or the other way around. The idea was too strange and unnatural to contemplate, but Harry turned beet red thinking about all of their “strenuous physical activity”, as Louis put it.

“Aye,” Louis agreed after the laughter had died down. “My mother always had sickness as she carried.”

“She misses you a lot,” Liam added after taking a pull of ale. “All your siblings do. She threatened me with bodily harm if you didn’t come back in one piece.”

The thought of Louis going home infiltrated Harry’s reminiscing about the afternoon. He would never be so selfish as to insist that he stayed, he knew that. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t considered the notion.

Having Louis there with him always, the way he had been for the last day. Had it truly only been a day? It felt like it had been a month since they had first kissed up in his chambers.

The time he had left before Louis had to return home was precious and he was going to savor every moment of it.

“So we ride home on the morrow,” Liam exclaimed with his smile wide and his soft brown eyes glowing in the candlelight. He was so filled with pure joy at his assurance that Louis would be happy to go home that it made it impossible for Harry to contemplate running him through with his sword the way longed to.

To make no mention of the fact that his sword was in the armory.

“In the morning?” Louis asked, a hint of alarm seeping into his voice. Harry couldn’t help but let his eyes trace the lines of his profile.

Liam agreed brightly. “First thing.”

Cheers went up from Graeme and Stephen who also had been away from home and must have been longing to go back.

Louis remained reserved, but wouldn’t make eye contact with Harry.

The rest of the meal dragged on, and when it came time to retire by the fire, Harry was only able to last for a few paltry minutes and one large gulp of whisky before he was heading up to his chamber. He hadn’t communicated with Louis but he could only hope that he understood and would follow behind him.

Less than a minute after he entered his chambers there was a knock on his door. Harry could barely say anything before Louis was on him, kissing him with a hard, biting edge.

Where everything before had been tender, slow, and building, Louis guiding Harry through the experience of being together, this was different.

This was desperation and frustration with tongue and teeth and sharp, intense pleasure.

When they were done and Louis went through his routine of cleaning Harry up, tears pricked at the corner of Harry’s vision.

Louis wasn’t his to keep, he knew that. But for just a moment as Louis climbed into bed with him, never even considering the possibility of visiting his own chambers, Harry let himself dream.

He let himself dream of training with Louis every day and retiring together. Letting Aileen run the household while Louis led their soldiers and Harry led the clan.

That dream, that idyll, wasn’t meant to be. Not in a world where invasion was a real and true threat. Nor was it meant to be in a world where he was expected to marry a woman of political value and carry on his family name.

When he thought Louis was well and truly asleep, he let a few tears fall. As the last candle in the room flickered out he sighed heavily and finally began to think about drifting off to sleep.

A moment later, he felt the marked press of lips to the skin at the top of his spine and the comforting prickle of Louis' beard as he pressed his face into Harry’s skin.

Neither of them said anything, but in the silence, they comforted each other.


	4. Chapter 4

Ominous grey clouds blanketed the Highland sky as Louis sat fully upright in his saddle, tense and alert. His horse, Merlyn, so named by his youngest brother and sister, could sense his unease and was tense himself.

It had been more than three months since he left his post at Clan Edwards, and for the first time since he returned, the biting winter chill was beginning to ease.

Louis’ mood was not.

There was nothing he could do on days like this, when he was patrolling out alone amongst the cold, harsh landscape, to keep himself from thinking about the warmth and comfort of Harry’s bed.

He had known true bliss for thirty-six hours of his life, and then he had to leave.

And it had been bliss, that at least he knew for sure. He hadn’t been lying to Harry when he said he had some experience. He had been with a handful of men in the desperate desolation of his mercenary days in France. All of them paled in comparison.

When he first saw Harry, first saw how attractive he was, he had pushed it aside. Despite his reservations about his posting in general, he and Harry had quickly bonded, and he knew he had a friend for life.

Then, something changed. The night Niall and Aileen were betrothed had been monumental. Louis saw for the first time that there was a brief glimmer of hope that Harry saw him in the same light.

He had no idea that laying with Harry would turn his world upside down, but he didn’t regret it for a moment. If that meant he would live for the rest of his life with this constant, distant emptiness knowing Harry was out there somewhere without him, so be it.

Because Harry needed to marry someone and carry on his family name, and Louis needed, _wanted_ , to stay with his family, and no matter how many times he had to remind himself of that fact it was worth it. He had held Harry in his arms, knew what it was like to be with him intimately, and nothing could ever take that away.

The night before Louis left had been a sleepless one. He had watched Harry sleep in the dying light of the fire for awhile, but he hadn’t been able to resist long before he woke Harry up to take him again.

He had drawn the blankets back and kissed up Harry’s chest until the laird had groggily opened his eyes to see Louis in front of him. Still half asleep, Harry had let his knees fall apart so that Louis could settle in the valley between them.

Harry had been so responsive that night. He had gripped Louis’ back, digging his fingernails into his skin, scratching him up like an animal possessed. Louis had felt the raised welts under his clothing the whole ride home, and he suspected Harry had wanted it that way.

They shared a few last sweet kisses in the morning light as Louis prepared to depart, but they made no promises between them. Louis had been calculating in that respect, because he never wanted to make Harry a promise he wasn’t capable of keeping.

Since he had returned, neither one of them had written to each other. It wasn’t that Louis didn’t know what he wanted to say, he had filled his journal with things he had wanted to say that last morning. More than anything, he held back because he wasn’t sure how Harry was feeling about everything.

And there was always a chance their letters would be intercepted.

That was precisely why Louis was on patrol that morning. The weather had started to turn away from the depth of winter towards the first thaw, and everyone in the Highlands was on edge.

Ian Mackenzie, laird of his clan, had been growing more and more vocal about his desire to push north and increase his holdings. It was clear he intended to conquer all of the clans and turn around with sights set on usurping King Alexander who had only been ruling for three years.

Much of those three years had been spent trying to defend himself from King Henry of England demanding control of the region. Henry, who was the Scottish king’s father-in-law was enough of a distraction for Alexander that Mackenzie thought he could continue slowly creeping his way towards control.

That meant their three clans could not let one another fall.

When the Mackenzie’s spies saw how well Sutherland land was defended, they were going to train their sights on Harry.

Louis tried to put the danger Harry was in out of his mind. If he was going to be at his most effective, he couldn’t let himself be distracted by worry for Harry.

The current plan was for them to not let the Mackenzie reach Clan Edwards at all, and to face his forces as they made their way towards Edwards land instead. Louis couldn’t decide if it was fortunate or unfortunate that their plan meant he would never even reach Edwards land, and was therefore unlikely to ever see Harry again.

The sound of hooves approaching his position broke him out of his reverie. If one could call remembering the heat of Harry’s skin a reverie.

The single rider was only Stephen, there to relieve Louis of his patrol duties.

Louis stomach grumbled as he greeted him which reminded him the end of his shift meant that it was time for the midday meal.

“Liam wants to see you,” Stephen said after Louis had given his report for the morning. He thanked him and turned Merlyn around to ride back to the stables. Hopefully Liam wouldn’t mind eating while they talked.

 

Liam, it turned out, had him covered. They ate in the laird’s study, where Liam had a meal laid for three.

“Who is our third?” Louis mused as he sat down and tucked into his trencher.

“Me,” Zayn said over his shoulder from the door.

Louis scowled at him. “Dramatics aren’t flattering to anyone,” he chided.

Both Liam and Zayn scoffed and began talking over each other discussing Louis’ own personal dramatic nature. He tuned them out.

His distrust of Zayn had faded steadily since the first time Harry came to Sutherland land. Louis could see his value as both a merchant and a spy, but there was something else. A deep friendship between Liam and Zayn. At first he had worried that Zayn was spying on them for the Edwards, but since his posting there he knew now that wasn’t true.

Liam and Zayn settled down to eat and they finally began discussing why Zayn was there.

“The Mackenzie has begun moving his soldiers,” he said bluntly.

Because the Mackenzie stronghold was so far south towards the Borderlands it would take them time to ride that far, especially with so many men.

None of that knowledge prevents Louis’ stomach from swooping or his hair standing on end as his whole body flooded with worry.

The time had come. The whole reason he had trained with Harry’s soldiers while Liam had prepared their own. They had to make sure the Mackenzie came nowhere near the Sutherland or Edwards lands.

“The plan we laid out before should still be viable. We’ll start sending small groups of men over to Edwards land, and then a larger group will intercept the Mackenzies with all of the men from Sinclair and Edwards from either side.” Liam ticked off the plan on his fingers as he referenced the map of the Highlands hanging on the wall.

“Word needs to be sent to H—the Edwards and the Sinclair immediately,” Louis said, catching himself tripping over Harry’s given name.

“Very well, we’ll send it. The Sinclair first, it will take them longer to make their way down here.”

Louis agreed wholeheartedly with the plan. There was no way he could be one of the men sent to Edwards land, but it had nothing to do with his relationship with Harry and everything to do with his status as commander of their soldiers. There was a chance he could be recognized by anyone the Mackenzie had out spying for him. He had been known to use mercenaries, and they had decided long ago that Louis couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t recognize him.

When they were done with their meal, they used the afternoon to set their plans in motion. Liam sent his missives off to both clans, and Zayn made his way with the first group of Sutherland men over to Edwards lands.

Louis watched them leave, partly wishing it was him and partly grateful that it wasn’t.

They were on the eve of battle, and he was confused, and whenever either of those things happened he sought one person’s council. It was time to visit his mother.

 

Entering his mother’s home usually carried with it a sense of joy and quite literally homecoming. He saw both his mother and his siblings throughout the day around the clan of course, but he had been entering his mother’s home less and less since he had come back from his posting.

There was only one reason, he thought as he knocked on the door and it swung open almost immediately. And that reason was the blasted rug.

Lady Anne had been so exceedingly generous with her gift of a long rug for his mother’s entryway, cut straight off her own loom at Clan Edwards. The colors were beautiful blues and greens and greys that mirrored the vast beauty of the Highlands. It was a piece of art, and it haunted Louis.

Every time he came to his mother’s house he saw it and thought about the warmth and welcoming clan only a little more than a day’s ride away and everything he had left behind.

The same thing happened to him whenever he ate any of the venison or pheasant or geese their clansmen had hunted on Edwards land and brought home to preserve for the winter. All he could picture was Harry’s glassy green eyes boring into his as they laid nose to nose in the camp of their hunting party.

Louis would have gone off venison, but he needed to eat.

“Louis, what’s wrong?” His mother had handed him a cup of tea and they were settled by the hearth in her home. The rug was only a few feet away, taunting him, and he had been lost in thought.

“The Mackenzies have started their prelude to attack. They’re going to move on Clan Edwards within the week,” he said bluntly. His mother told him long ago that she would rather know what was happening and worry about him in a specific situation than have everything be unknown.

Johannah deflated a bit but maintained her brave face for Louis. “Off again, then?”

“Yes, but I’ll be in the last wave of men. We’re trying to maintain stealth as we join them to shore up their defenses.”

His mother’s entire demeanor shifted. “The last wave. Does that mean you’re not going back to Edwards’ land at all?” she asked him.

“Most likely no, we’re hoping to not let the Mackenzie get that far.”

His mother’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

Louis looked up sharply at her tone. “What do you mean?”

“Louis,” she said placatingly. “You’re my son and I love you, but you’ve been different ever since you returned home.”

A wave of defensiveness rose inside him. He had tried his best to hide his sense of loss, mostly because he was unsure how to properly explain it to anyone when the story was only half his.

“You said that after I returned from the mainland,” he pointed out.

She smiled at him indulgently. “That was because it had been years and you had grown into yourself and become a man. This is something else entirely.”

He didn’t know how to answer her, so he remained silent.

“What did you leave behind there?” she asked quietly.

Louis took a deep breath and blew it out. “I’m not sure quite how to explain it.”

Johannah shook her head. “That’s alright, I don’t need a name, but I’m fairly certain I can understand.”

A tense, dry laugh burst out of his chest. “I’m not sure that you can, really.”

“That’s alright then,” she said. “But just know that I love you and would support any decision you made.”

Louis stared into the fire as he thought about leaving his family and all the other obstacles he and Harry had in their path. The all seemed impenetrable. “I’m not sure it’s mine to make.”

That evening instead of going to the clan meal in the great hall, he and Ernest went out to hunt a few rabbits for dinner and they all roasted them over the hearth so they could eat a quiet meal at home.

Despite everything with Harry, Louis was still going into battle. There was always the possibility that he wouldn’t come home again, so he treasured his time with them while he had it and could do naught but pray that he would be granted more.

 

Slowly but surely they sent Sutherland men on to Edwards land. That first night, the largest group went under cover of darkness. Then in the morning a few more, and they started again the next day.

To be as inconspicuous as possible, Liam went in the larger group on the second night. Everyone expected a laird to travel slowly with a full entourage no matter what, so they did their best to subvert the expectation. Secretly, Louis knew it was because Liam jumped on any excuse to get his hands dirty.

Louis remaining at home with his soldiers meant that all he could do was bide his time and not think about the leagues of virile Scotsmen he was intentionally dumping at Harry’s feet. His only comfort to ease the complete and total irrational jealousy that festered in his gut was that Harry was more likely preoccupied with the protection of his own clan.

He counted down the hours until Liam was due to arrive at Clan Edwards. It helped him feel like he was in control of the situation. Everything was going to plan until Oli burst into his chamber.

“What’s wrong?” Louis demanded. Oli was supposed to have gone in the group with Liam so he could protect him and Louis could have eyes and ears on the ground.

“Everyone is safe,” he led with placatingly. “But during our journey, Liam got word that Mackenzie was moving faster than we thought.”

Louis’ heart sank. That meant there was only one logical course of action for him, and that was for him to take his men directly to Edwards land.

“Very well. Let the other men know we leave tonight instead of tomorrow morning,” he said, soundly dismissing him. He needed a moment to himself.

Knowing the gravity of the situation, Oli nodded and rushed off to tell the others. Louis forced himself to wait until the door closed behind him before he collapsed on the edge of his bed. There was nothing to prevent it now, he would have to see Harry again.

It was not the high of seeing the laird again that worried Louis, it was the crash when he inevitably had to return home again after the Mackenzie threat was vanquished that he truly feared. If he came home again, he thought to himself bitterly.

Fighting, strategy, battle, those were all his duty, his passion. He did it for the love of his clan and his laird, and his true disdain for tyrannical frauds like Ian Mackenzie. But the threat of danger was still very real.

 

The day long ride to Harry’s land was intense. He and his men rode hard, pushing themselves and their horses to the brink. If they timed it correctly, they should still have an extra day to recuperate before the Mackenzie would be ready to attack.

When they finally arrived, Louis could see the camps of the other soldiers in the north meadow that usually served as the training field. The keep was positively bustling with activity as the clansmen prepared to batten down the hatches. He and his men stopped to hand their horses off to Arthur and his stableboys for care, and Louis went to find Liam.

Because fate was a cruel mistress, Liam wasn’t in the soldiers’ camp, or the regular Edwards barracks. He was in the keep, most likely with Harry. It was time for Louis to face his fate no matter how terrified he was of Harry’s reaction.

As Louis approached the keep, the first person he saw was Lady Anne and she greeted him warmly. Louis was genuinely glad to see her despite the sting in his heart. He pressed a distracted kiss to her cheek and asked where Liam was. She smiled at him indulgently and directed him inside to Harry’s study.

Louis tried to keep his breathing even as his heart pounded in his chest. It had been more than three months since he had last seen Harry, last kissed him goodbye.

He stopped short in the cramped stairwell. The thought had not occurred to him that Harry could have already been married over the course of the winter. Surely he would have received word if that had happened. Except none of their friends and family knew he had any personal stake in the matter, so they could have seen no reason to tell him. Louis hadn’t dared ask Zayn about Harry for fear of exposing himself and his feelings one way or another.

Louis’ reticence meant that he could very well open the door to Harry’s study and find a wife by his side. Or something far worse, another man. It wasn’t that he thought so little of Harry’s feelings, it was more that he could not prevent his mind from cycling through the worst possible scenarios.

Pressing his palm flat against the heavy wood of the door, Louis took a deep breath, steeling himself before he pushed it open. And on the other side he found… Liam.

“Li, what are you doing here?” It was a ridiculous question, Louis knew why he was there.

“Conferring with Harry,” Liam replied. “Nice to see you as well.” His sardonic tone was entirely unappreciated at the moment.

Louis gestured around the room. “Harry’s not here.”

“No, he just stepped out, should be back in a moment.”

“Hello,” Harry’s deep monotone voice interrupted them and Louis startled, jumping about a foot in the air in surprise. He placed his hand on his heart and turned around to face Harry.

“Hello,” he replied, unable to say anything else. Louis had traveled quite a bit and he was certain there was no one in the world that was even half as beautiful as Harry. A sliver of sunlight shone in through the window slits, bouncing off his luscious and wavy hair held back by a few short plaits. Louis could see the beams of light dance in his jade green eyes.

All he could think about was Harry’s perfect face, crumpled in ecstasy as he gave himself over to Louis, mind, body, and soul. The way he had melted under Louis’ careful study of his skin. Louis would never be able to scour those memories for his mind, they were the most sublime form of torture.

On his part, Harry’s expression gave nothing away on the surface, but in an instant Louis could tell that he was sick with worry. It was there in the dark purple bruises under his eyes and the furrow of his brow. If he didn’t know Harry better, Louis might selfishly think Harry’s strife was due to seeing him again. But he did know Harry, knew how important everyone’s safety was to him.

“Are you both well?” Liam asked, carefully. He knew Louis too well to be oblivious to the undercurrents of the conversation, Louis had just forgotten himself in the presence of Harry.

The stare between them was heavy with thoughts left unsaid but Louis had to recover, and had to shake himself off first because he could see that Harry was in no fit state to get himself together.

He gave Harry one last long look before turning to Liam. “We’re fine, Li. Worried, but who wouldn’t be in the face of so much uncertainty.”

Liam eyed them again before reluctantly accepting the explanation, but once Harry’s was back was turned as he came further into the room and settled, Louis could feel his best friend staring at him.

Harry cleared his throat. “Duncan and the Sinclair will be here in a moment. He and Gemma needed to take the baby to the nursery.”

“The baby?” Louis asked incredulously. He couldn’t believe the Sinclair had agreed to such a treacherous journey with a newborn baby. He couldn’t believe Duncan agreed to it either, or Gemma. They were all mad.

“Yes, she and Gemma are here,” Harry said brokenly. His expression was haunted, and Louis could pinpoint, now, the source of his stress. Not only did he need to protect his clansmen, but the sister and niece that must mean more to him than anything. Louis knew how much Harry loved normal babies, much less his niece.

Louis sat on his hands to keep himself from lifting his hand up to ease Harry’s brow and run his fingers through his hair. “It will be alright, Harry.”

Harry gave him a small nod of acknowledgement, but Louis knew his empty platitude hadn’t done much to help. There was a reason he hadn’t told Harry of his feelings before he left. He specifically wanted to avoid making a promise to Harry that he couldn’t keep, and now it had taken all of five minutes in his presence before Louis’ mouth was running off without permission.

They didn’t get a chance to speak further because Duncan and the Sinclair arrived to join their party, and they began to parse out their battle strategy for when the Mackenzie inevitably waged his attack on the lands.

From there it was time for the evening meal, and Louis wasn’t certain that Harry was avoiding him, except that Harry was avoiding him.

Because of all the other guests that required ceremonial proximity to Harry, Louis was sitting farther away from him than he had ever been during his posting, and he wasn’t entirely sure how much of that was by design. Thankfully, he was seated near enough to Gemma and Niall that he was sufficiently comfortable with the company.

The air in the great hall crackled with anticipation of what was to come. Louis and the men who had traveled with him were tired, but the other men who had been there for at least a day were much more well-rested.

They would need it.

He kept his own council during the meal, and he could see that Niall suspected something was wrong. Aileen greeted him when she came around directing the meal for almost double the amount of people she normally served with aplomb.

As tense as he was he couldn’t help but feel welcomed back into the arms of Clan Edwards.

“He’s been absolutely crazed,” Gemma said to Niall lowly. “His mood this winter was foul anyway, even in his letters to me. But since we arrived he’s been hysterical. I understand that he’s worried, but that’s no cause to turn a cold shoulder and not speak to me. I’m not sure what it is I’ve done.”

When he finally tuned into the conversation around him, he found he could no longer bite his tongue.

“You brought the baby,” he said flatly. “In truth, it’s because you came at all.”

Niall and Gemma both turned to look at him simultaneously with shocked looks. He had been quiet enough the whole meal, he supposed they were astonished at his having spoken anything much less provide insight.

“What do you mean?” Gemma asked him, scowling. She was fierce, to be sure, but no fiercer than his own sisters or his mother. Or Lady Anne for that matter.

“The baby. And you. That’s why Harry isn’t speaking to you. By the by, what did you name her?” Louis asked, taking a sip of ale.

“Bringing my child—Rose, to answer your question—is my own decision. It was dangerous, but I wasn’t going to sit up at the Sinclair keep twiddling my thumbs while my husband and brother fought to defend my family. She hasn’t been weaned, so she needed to come. Harry has the whole clan to worry about, why would he be so angry about one baby?”

Louis tried to maintain a neutral expression, but he couldn’t in the face of Gemma being willfully obtuse. “You’re serious?”

When she looked at him expectantly he turned to Niall for assistance, but he was no help instead sitting back watching them with rapt attention.

Louis adjusted himself in his seat. “Gemma. There is no one more important to Harry in this life than his family. You. In addition to that, he adores children more than anything. His niece. Whether it was your decision to make or not, you intentionally have put you and your daughter directly in the path of danger.”

“We will be barricaded in the keep with the other women and children, the fighting will come nowhere near us,” she said dismissively.

“And if we do not succeed in quelling the invasion?” Louis asked pointedly. “What will happen if the Mackenzie wins and takes the keep?”

Gemma opened her mouth to argue, but he watched as the idea formed in her mind and took shape. She sat back, chastened slightly, but he could see the fight still brewing inside of her.

“If my daughter and I are threatened, I will defend her until my dying breath.”

Louis nodded. “I’m sure that is true, there is no greater strength than a mother’s, but Harry is angry with you because you made that a possibility.”

Finally, Niall cut in, for which Louis was glad. He didn’t want to alienate Gemma by arguing with her, but he also couldn’t keep himself from defending Harry.

“How are you so certain that is what has made Harry angry?” Niall asked pointedly.

Louis took back every complimentary thing he ever said about Niall. His shoulders tensed and he thought about how to walk back everything he had said. In the end, he just shrugged and drank some more ale.

He needed to retire soon, but he hadn’t even stopped to consider where he would retire. The logical place was in the camp with his men, but he wasn’t sure he would be able to when Harry’s bed, his idea of valhalla, was sitting just upstairs in his chamber.

If he was even granted entrance.

 

After the evening meal, they made their way around the hearth the way they had done so many times before when Louis was there.

The difference this time was in Harry; he was growing increasingly more difficult to watch. His mood had soured even more so, and he seemed to be spiraling. The breaking point— _Louis’_ breaking point—was when Niall went over to see what was wrong and Harry snapped at both him and Lady Anne before going back to sulking.

Everyone was tense, and Niall, Gemma, and Lady Anne had retreated away from him back towards where Louis was standing. Their hushed whispers were exceedingly obvious, and Louis could feel the palpable tension in Harry’s body being pulled tighter than a bow string.

He knew what he had to do.

Pushing himself off the wall, he walked over until he was standing in front of Harry’s chair. “Laird, may I speak with you a moment?”

Harry scowled up at him but didn’t answer. They were beginning to draw some stares.

“Laird,” he tried again, emphasizing the pressing need in his voice. “I need to speak with you, it’s a matter of urgency.”

“Very well,” Harry stood up and huffed indicating that Louis should lead the way out of the hall.

He didn’t know where to go. They couldn’t very well disappear up to Harry’s chamber, as much as that was the route Louis wanted to take. Their exit from the room was much too obvious for them not to return just as plainly.

The kitchen, Louis thought, always quick on his feet. The maids would be done cleaning up, and the pantry and larder were relatively quiet anyway. Taking the abrupt turn that would lead them there, he didn’t look back to see if Harry was following him. Part of that was his own cowardice, unable to double check and see.

Warmth permeated the air as they got closer and closer to the large hearth fires in the main kitchen, and there were only one or two maids still about cleaning up what had been left of the evening meal.

He smiled at them as they greeted him for the first time since his return, and he surreptitiously grabbed Harry’s elbow and dragged him into the dry stores, shutting the door behind him.

“What?” Harry bit out. “Why did you need to see me?” His voice had gotten deeper in his anger and his body was so tense he was shaking.

The nervous energy rolled off him in waves and Louis said nothing. Harry paced back and forth in the small room, and all Louis could do in this situation was wait for him to wear himself out. Or explode.

It hadn’t escaped Louis that this was the first time they had been alone since he kissed Harry goodbye some three months earlier.

He proceeded cautiously. “You seem a bit tense,” he pointed out, doing his best to temper his voice.

Harry stopped dead, rounding on him as Louis braced for impact.

“Tense? We’re about to be _invaded_. I’m going to lose my clan and my whole family is going to die.”

He had focused all of his anger on Louis, his face getting within a hair's breadth of his own, his eyes wide and his jaw tense as he chewed his words up and spit them out.

Louis knew Harry wouldn’t be receptive if he kissed him right now, but part of him really wanted to in that moment. He couldn’t help the flare of lust that welled up from seeing Harry like this; bright eyes and deep voice and pure masculine intensity. It was rare for Louis to go weak at the knees for anything or anyone, but he was dangerously close.

Harry huffed a bit more, like a caged animal in the small space, but didn’t say anything else. Louis saw his opening and decided to take it where he could.

“There’s a chance—a very good chance, I think—that we will win this battle. Training your men, improving your soldiers in anticipation for this battle was the very reason for my posting.”

Heat flared in Harry’s gaze at the mention of their shared past, but he was too angry to dwell on it for more than a heartbeat. “But you don’t _know_ that,” he blustered.

“You’re right, love, I don’t know that. _Nothing_ is certain in this life. What I do know is that I will die before I let any harm come to your family. That is a promise I am not afraid to make. As will Niall, as will Liam, and Duncan, and Stephen, and Graeme, and any of the hundreds of men out there in that camp.”

Louis paused to take a deep breath and calm himself down. “Any one of us care deeply about not only this clan but the safety of all the clans in the Highlands. We will lay our lives down to protect you, Lady Anne, Gemma, the baby, and your clansmen. Because you, all of you, are honorable, just, and true. I cannot prevent people like the Mackenzie from trying to conquer your clan, but what I can do is get close enough to him to put an arrow through his heart.”

Louis hadn’t realized how much rage he had bottled up inside him towards the Mackenzie. And that’s where his anger was focused. The Mackenzie. One man that was so focused on his own power and greed that he was willing to raze the earth.

And now, he was going after the people Louis held dear, and the man he loved.

No sooner had the thought passed through his mind before Harry had him up against the stacked barrels of grain, bracketing him in and kissing him desperately. Harry’s hands framed his face, and Louis let him take what he wanted.

He couldn’t believe he had the chance to feel this again. His lungs burned from lack of use and something was digging into his back, but it didn’t matter because Harry needed him and nothing in the world was as blissful as Harry’s kiss.

When Harry finally pulled back, he pressed their foreheads together and Louis could taste salt on his lips from Harry’s tears.

“I’m so scared, Lou,” Harry whispered hoarsely.

Louis finally let himself bring his hand up to push Harry’s hair back off his face and tuck it behind his ear before digging his hands in and massaging Harry’s scalp the way he loved. Harry’s eyelids fluttered shut pushing out a few more tears from the corners of his eyes.

“I know, my love,” he replied before kissing him much more chastely than before. He wrapped his arms around Harry and let Harry bury his face in his neck.

They needed to go back out there before they were gone too long that it raised suspicion, but their sojourn would do no good if Harry didn’t have an outlet for his true feelings.

And Louis didn’t want to let him go just yet.

“I missed you,” he murmured into Harry’s shoulder.

Weakness was something Louis had suppressed his whole life. He only showed anything close to it when he was with his mother or his siblings. Vulnerability was not an option for a soldier, or a commander, or a council member to a laird.

“Don’t,” Harry replied brokenly. “Please, don’t. Just hold me for a moment.”

The rejection tore through him, but Louis understood. He had been the one to leave. It was what he had to do, they both knew that, and he could understand that starting up again would only make the next separation worse. He had the same preservation instincts himself before he arrived on Edwards land.

Louis squeezed Harry tighter for a moment trying to memorize the feel of his skin and his smell and the way his silky hair floated through his fingers. But eventually he had to step back. They had been gone too long.

When they emerged from the dry stores, they righted themselves. Harry’s red rimmed eyes were all that gave away what had transpired.

“Let’s go,” Louis said with much more conviction than he felt.

They didn’t cause too much of a commotion when they returned, but Louis suspected that was all an act for the sake of gauging Harry’s mood and what it was like after speaking with Louis.

Harry returned immediately to the chair he had been in when Louis asked for a private audience, but when his mother came towards him and they began speaking in low voices, he was no longer snappish.

Louis sighed and let out a breath as he was handed a dram of whisky out of thin air. Thin air turned out to be Niall.

“What did you say to our friend the laird?” he asked, not bothering to mask his curiosity.

Louis did not want to lie, nor did he want to tell Niall everything that had transpired. He decided the course of action was a half-truth. “I reassured him that for all his worry about how this will play out, there are many, many lines of defense between the Mackenzie and his family.”

Niall waited for him to provide a more believable explanation. He didn’t. “Is that all?”

Louis stayed quiet, which he was sure was suspicious in and of itself.

“Keep your secrets, Tomlinson,” Niall conceded. “Because the laird’s temperament has calmed—which is better for everyone—I won’t pry.”

A few other people, Liam and Duncan included, shot him a few other strange looks as they all gathered to go over their plan of attack, or defense as it stood. Harry had indeed calmed down enough that he, the Sinclair, and Liam could present their findings without further incident.

 

When the council meeting was over, Louis was at a loss. The barracks and his men were in the north meadow. But Harry was upstairs. Louis loitered in Harry’s study for a few more minutes pretending to go over the map of Edwards land until he was absolutely certain everyone had left before he snuck up the maids’ stairs to Harry’s room.

Before he could talk himself out of it he brought his hand up and knocked on the heavy wooden door.

“Come in,” Louis heard from inside. He didn’t think anything of the fact that Harry hadn’t gotten up to open the door himself until he was already stepping into the room, faced with a sight he had seen only in his dreams.

There was a wash tub set up in the middle of the floor next to the hearth. Harry had his arms hanging over the sides and his head resting back against the lip of it with his eyes closed.

“You let just anyone in while you’re bathing?” He meant to say something, anything nicer than that, but he couldn’t concentrate on what his mouth was doing when Harry was sitting there wet. And naked.

Without opening his eyes, Harry sighed. “It was either my family or the maids,” he finally looked up at Louis, blinking his eyes open. “Or you.”

“You knew I would come?” Louis asked even though they both knew the answer.

“Aren’t your men camping on the training field?” Harry asked instead, changing the subject.

“Aye,” Louis nodded. “And Liam.”

Harry bit down on a smile. “Yes, he was quite enthusiastic about that.”

The water rippled as Harry sat up a little straighter, making Louis’ chuckle catch in his throat. Harry’s hair fell down around his shoulders and a few of the ends dipped into the water.

“We should get some sleep,” Louis whispered, still leaning against the door a safe distance away. He was testing the waters because he didn’t want to presume anything when it came to Harry.

“Again, I ask, aren’t your men in the Sutherland camp?” Harry raised his eyebrows at Louis, daringly.

If he didn’t want Louis there, he would have kicked him out already. Out of self preservation. Louis knew because he would have done the same thing.

“Do you want me to go to the Sutherland camp?”

Harry looked down at the water and ran his fingers through the surface of it.

“No.”

Finally, Louis pushed himself off the door. He stopped at the bench at the end of the bed and took off his outer layers; his furs and gambeson, until he was in only his tunic, braies, and boots. Harry watched him silently from the wash tub as Louis leaned over and took his boots off as well.

His bare feet hit the cool stone of the floor as he picked up the footstool and carried it over, positioning it so he would be sitting directly behind Harry’s head.

“Lean back,” he said softly as he draped his fingers over Harry’s bare shoulder. That was all he was going to allow himself to touch.

Dutifully, Harry leaned back and Louis gathered up his hair to pull it over the edge of the wash tub. Once Harry was settled, he closed his eyes again and Louis began slowly and methodically undoing his plaits. One by one.

Every time Louis loosened one, he would reach up and massage Harry’s scalp, letting his fingers comb through the hair he had just undone before starting again on the next one. When he was done, he had Harry dunk his head back to wet his hair completely. Louis picked up the lavender soap and began working that through his hair as well. After he rinsed it out, he had Harry get out of the by now merely tepid water and sit on the bear skin rug in front of the fire.

Louis took his time replaiting Harry’s hair until it was done up enough again that it stayed out of his face. The style was one his mother had taught him years ago when his sisters were much younger, so it was a bit more feminine, but it suited him.

Harry remained silent even after Louis had finished, letting him continue to draw the scrimshaw comb through his curls for a bit longer. Louis was surprised when Harry reached up to cover his hand with one of his own and tug, dragging him down to join him on the rug.

Louis followed the unspoken instructions, adjusting himself until he was seated fully on Harry’s lap. It pained him, physically, to keep himself from touching Harry, so Louis cupped his jaw and drew a thumb across his cheekbone.

Harry let his eyes drift closed for a moment before he opened them again and let his stark, honest gaze bore into Louis’.

“I missed you,” Harry admitted, his voice barely discernible, even when the only other sound in the room was the crackle of the fire.

Louis leaned down and kissed him leisurely, the way he had wanted to earlier when he had stolen him away. What Harry needed then was anger and ferocity. What he needed now was tenderness.

The kiss grew deeper, more sensual. Harry’s hands dug under Louis’ tunic and trailed down his chest, teasing the downy hair below his navel and going straight for the placket of his braies. Louis knew what Harry wanted. It killed him to deny it.

“We can’t, love,” he groaned.

“Why not?” The petulance was there in his tone, lingering. If the moment was any less charged, Louis would have let himself tease Harry for his eagerness.

“Because it’s been three months and you’ll be sore. Everything that has to happen in the next few days is much more important than this,” Louis said, pressing his palm flat against Harry’s chest. He kissed Harry’s temple partly because it was much easier in this position, and partly to avoid the temptation of looking Harry in the eye. If he did that, he was sure to give into his demands. “You need your strength.”

Harry sighed as he extracted his hands from Louis’ abdomen. Louis missed the feel of them already. Harry kissed along Louis’ shoulder until he reached the dip of his neck. “Stay with me?”

“Of course.” They climbed into bed. Louis gathered Harry to his chest and fell asleep faster than he had in months.

 

When Louis next awoke he was disoriented for a moment. Such was the life of the warrior that he was a relatively light sleeper, which meant he usually woke with the dawn, but there was no hint of sun streaming through the furs on the windows.

The fire in the hearth had died, everything was still pitch black. He tried to push away his instinct to draw Harry close to him and relish in the feeling of a warm body next to his. Something else had woken him, something else was making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

The room around him was clear and undisturbed, but still something nagged at the back of his conscience.

Harry was naked but Louis was not, still in his braies, having taken off his wet tunic after helping Harry bathe. He got out of bed and reached for his dagger, not bothering to cover his chest.

Louis slipped out of the door to Harry’s room and stayed in the shadows of the doorway, stopping to make sure the hallway was clear. There was no room between Harry’s and the end of the hall, so he took off in the opposite direction.

In and out of doorways he wove, his heart pounding. He steadied his breathing and listened. Somewhere, there was a faint but steady whistle. He reached a bedroom with the door slightly ajar and pushed it open. The furs were rolled up off the window and the wind was making the whistling sound he kept hearing.

There was no one in the bed, and there were so many people in the keep at the moment, Louis couldn’t immediately remember who was supposed to be where. He crossed to inspect the window. There were divots on the edge that were brand new, and there were large, muddy boot prints below the ledge.

Louis cursed under his breath. None of this looked good, and he still didn’t know whose room it was supposed to be.

That was when he heard it. The second he did, he knew what it was and he felt as though his heart stopped beating in his chest.

A muffled cry.

Louis turned around to what he had initially thought was a table covered in a woman’s cape but he now knew was something else entirely. There was no time for caution, he strode over to it quickly and whipped the covering back. His heart dropped.

There, nestled in the crib surrounded by cushions was little baby Rose, wide-eyed blinking at the change in light, still so young she couldn’t turn herself over even though she was squirming and twisting her body in an attempt.

She let out another few grunts of frustration and Louis could sense an imminent bout of crying. He had no idea what had happened, or who might still be lingering below the window, so he carefully lifted her up out of the crib until she was resting on his chest and shoulder. He began gently bouncing as he walked around the room. Gemma’s room.

Louis knew deep within himself what had happened and he was terrified. Someone had taken Gemma. Harry’s worst fears had been realized.

Despite the chill in his veins he had to be calm for Rose and for Harry. He also had to admire Gemma for thinking on her feet. She must have sensed some kind of danger and her first thought had been to hide the baby and probably pray that she stayed asleep long enough to not give herself away.

Louis could hear footsteps coming down the hallway but he knew immediately who it was. Dread washed over him as he continued to soothe Rose.

“Lou?” Harry called quietly, mindful of the fact that everyone else was still asleep. Louis didn’t answer for fear of disturbing the baby. Harry would find him eventually because the door to the room was still open.

“Louis what are you doing?” Harry asked as he stepped into the room. Louis was certain he made an odd picture holding Rose the way he was.

“Harry,” he said as calmly and placatingly as possible, mostly to prolong the inevitable as he tried to figure out how to break the news to him.

“Where is Gemma?” Harry asked searching the chamber.

Louis saw the exact moment his eyes landed on the open window, could read the shock as it settled on his face.

“Harry, look at me,” Louis said forcefully. The dread from before was replaced with an eerie sense of calm. In his head he was panicking, but Harry needed him to be the one to think clearly. He could do it. He _could_. “You need to call for someone to go find Duncan, see if he was here, or if he’s in the camp with his men. I’m fairly certain that had been his plan earlier so that he didn’t disturb Gemma and the baby when he came back. And you need to send for your mother as well.”

“My sister is _gone_?” Harry bit out, his eyes blazing as the anger so quickly overcame him. “Who the hell would take her?”

Louis waited for him to stop his tirade. “Harry,” he barked quietly, mindful of the babe still in his arms. “Send for Duncan, send for your mother. You can come back and be angry after you’ve done that.”

Harry’s face contorted into a snarl, but turned on his heel to do what Louis said, making enough noise to rouse everyone in his wake.

The baby had started to stir again with the noise Harry was making, and Louis moved to the window to look out at the inky blackness. He began to sing a soothing song under his breath to calm her again as he waited for the telltale noise of Lady Anne rushing down the hallway.

When she entered the chamber, she clung to the doorway with all the energy she had left. She had been woken up and was in her night clothes with her hair undone, Louis had never seen her so disheveled. Her eyes were crazed and she let out a sob when she was met with only Louis in the room holding the baby.

Harry crowded in behind her.

Lady Anne began to cry, but the tears were silent as they fell down her cheeks as she remained stone faced, and immediately rushed to take Rose from him.

Louis was both grateful to pass her over so that his hands were free and worried that his own anger would be unleashed because he had no way to channel it. Normally if anyone threatened him, his friends, or his family he was testy and prone to flying off the handle, but as he watched Harry do just that very thing, the sense of calm remained.

Harry needed him. Louis was a warrior, a commander, a strategist, and he needed to think this through.

“Lady Anne,” he said, easing up on the tone he had used when he spoke to Harry. “Do you have a wet nurse in the clan at the moment, or another woman that can nurse her while Gemma—While we figure out what we’re going to do?” he asked. Taking care of the baby was the single most important thing right now. If they lost the baby because they were being foolish, the situation would take a catastrophic downturn.

Her strong, stoic expression remained even while her tears fell onto the soft swaddling wrapped around Rose. “Yes, we do.”

Louis nodded. “Very well. I know it’s hard to give her up right now. We need to convene Harry’s council as well as the commanders of the Sutherland and Sinclair armies, and we need to do it now. Do you want to be there? Or do you want to stay with your granddaughter? We can have someone fill you in later.”

As Anne contemplated what she would like to do, Louis shot his gaze to Harry who was staring out the open window ignoring them. Louis hoped he wasn’t overstepping, but he wasn’t sure he had a choice at the moment. Given his involvement in the training of both the Edwards and Sutherland armies, he seemed to be the uniting force in this time of crisis.

“It’s not necessary for me to be at this privy council, I will take Rose to the nurse and stay with her.” Anne looked Louis dead in the eye. “You bring my daughter back,” she said lowly.

Louis nodded to indicate he understood what she was saying. Gemma needed to come back to them. There was no other option. Louis had an inkling at what was at play here, but he needed to gather the lairds together.

For the moment, though, the room was empty aside from him and Harry as someone tried to locate Gemma’s husband. He had to be in the camp. No one in their right mind would be stupid enough to kidnap a clan warrior with his wife for fear of what happened when he woke up.

Louis reached out and tangled his fingers with Harry’s. Harry tightened his grip and drew Louis in close to his side.

“I’m going to kill them. I am going to burn Mackenzie and his troops to the ground,” Harry whispered, mirroring his mother’s fierceness and fury.

“I know, love,” Louis replied as he brought their entwined hands up to his lips so he could kiss the back of Harry’s hand. “I think I know what’s going on here, and I think I have a plan.”

He waited for Harry to turn to look at him. “Do you trust me?” he asked, his eyes searching Harry’s for any sort of hesitation.

“With my life,” Harry replied. “And Gemma’s. If you think you know what to do, let’s gather everyone and we can hear you out. But I promise you Louis, I will run my sword through each and every one of them individually until she is returned to her family.”

There was a clatter in the hall and a growl as Duncan approached. Harry dropped their hands, and Louis’ heart sunk, but he knew now was not the time.

“Where are my wife and daughter?” Duncan roared. His chest was heaving from what Louis was sure was the fastest he had ever run coming up from the camp.

He took a breath to begin explaining the situation, but Harry got there first. “She has been taken.”

Duncan lunged at Harry, and Louis couldn’t help but shift a little on instinct so that his body was positioned between danger and Harry, despite being smaller than both of them.

Louis cut in to explain and try to diffuse the situation. “Gemma managed to cover Rose in her crib before she was attacked, most likely having heard them climbing, so they didn’t know she was there or didn’t care. Either way, she is safe with Lady Anne now.”

Duncan’s nostrils flared and his breathing was short and choppy as he noticeably tried to calm himself down. “And Gemma?” he demanded.

“She has been gone less than an hour and we’re wasting time. Let’s gather everyone in the hall.” Louis left Harry and his brother-in-law behind to either follow him or continue to seethe with anger together.

In the meantime, he found one of the soldiers and sent him for Liam, the Sinclair, Niall, Zayn, Oli, and anyone else he could think of given his present state.

Then an idea struck him.

“Wait,” he called to the man. “There is a woman in the Sutherland camp, bring her too.”

“A woman?” he asked, incredulous.

Louis’ let out a grim laugh. “Aye, but she won’t look it. She likes to blend in, so you need to ask obviously enough that she knows to find you.”

The man stared at him as though he had two heads, but turned away to follow his orders anyway.

Louis had a plan taking shape in his mind, he just hoped he would be able to execute it, for all their sakes.

 

Fifteen minutes later, Louis had all of the councilors from all three clans gathered in the hall—thirty or so people, all told—and he was standing up in front of them with Harry, Liam, and the Sinclair behind him.

He cleared his throat and the room quieted down. “I’m sorry for rousing you before dawn but it had to be done.”

“Lady Gemma has been kidnapped from her chambers upstairs.” The room erupted. Louis knew this would happen, but he didn’t particularly have the time to wait them out. “Calm down,” he called out over the din.

The men, and a few women, settled after another moment or so. “In the training we all went through, and the planning for this treaty of protection which has greatly benefited all of us and improved the relationships between our clans, there was one thing we never stopped to consider.” Louis paused.

“Mackenzie was very busy before the winter hit. He invaded and conquered countless keeps across the Midlands. We knew and got word that he was moving his soldiers around, to be sure, but never a definitive number to indicate how many.”

The information began to sink in across the room like a ripple effect. Some were in the process of coming to the same conclusion Louis had, some were still confused, and some were blatantly skeptical.

“With all these holdings to defend, even assuming he started with a higher than average amount of warriors, I think the Mackenzie is too spread out. If I conquered something, I would only put someone loyal to me at the head of it. Which means, as he moves himself north towards us, he relinquished himself of his most loyal soldiers along the way.”

Murmurs begin to hover and grow as they move around the room. “This is a gamble, I know that,” Louis continued. “But I think the kidnapping is a tactic. He’s going to come to us with a smaller group of men and demand our surrender in exchange for Lady Gemma, and I think he’s going to put on airs claiming that if we do not yield to him, he’ll bring down the might of his army. Only he doesn’t have enough of one to stand against all three of our clans.”

The lairds all crowded in around the table in front of him to see the holdings he had marked off a few moments ago as having fallen to the Mackenzie, some ten or so throughout the Midlands, which meant either they were vulnerable to being taken back by their original owners, or the Mackenzie was missing ten of his most loyal officers.

“The Mackenzie is bluffing,” he said definitively. “If we attack him when he asks for our surrender, he won’t be able to handle it. Be ready in the morning.”

Louis dismissed the rest of the councilors, and he could feel Harry bristle beside him given that he hadn’t mentioned anything about Gemma. “Lairds. Niall, Zayn, Duncan, will you stay for a moment.”

A shadowy figure towards the back of the room smirked at him and he quirked his head for her to come forward. She was well known amongst the Sutherland men, and was one of their best warriors, but she was cagey about displaying her talents amongst new people she didn’t know or trust.

The three lairds took seats around the end of the table so they could form a much smaller group. Louis hadn’t mentioned anything to the rest of the men because he didn’t want to reveal his plan to just anyone.

“This,” Louis announced motioning her forward, “is Bebe.”

“Bonjour,” she said with her signature husky voice.

Louis almost laughed when Harry eyed her with such blatant distrust, bordering on contempt. He would forgive him because Bebe was strong and beautiful, and he could see how anyone would be threatened, especially given the peril of the situation. Louis would answer his questions later.

“Liam knows Bebe very well, she is a trusted member of our troops. We met in France on the battlefield there, and she came back with me to escape persecution in her homeland.”

Harry straightened in his seat even more when Louis said she had come back with him. He was drawn tighter than a bow and Louis felt an immense guilt for causing him to be jealous in any way. At the very least, it might serve the purpose of keeping Harry’s mind occupied so that he stopped thinking about Gemma.

Louis cleared his throat and continued. “Gemma has not been gone long and Bebe is the best tracker we have. I propose that Bebe, Zayn, Niall, and I go find from wherever it is that they have taken Gemma and bring her home.”

His plan was not met with heartening enthusiasm so he tried a different tack and addressed Harry directly. “This will not take long, they can’t have gone far with her, especially given that the Mackenzie needs her nearby to hold over you. Everything here will stay the same, as though Gemma has happened and surrender is imminent. The Mackenzie is arrogant, he will think he has won even as we come back with his pawn.”

Duncan spoke up first. “If what Louis is saying is true, when we attack we will have the upper hand on both counts. We’ll have more men who are stronger, and not tired from being stretched too thin. And we’ll have Gemma so that he cannot use her against us.”

Louis was surprised at his change in demeanor. He had calmed down, and the only smoldering embers of his anger were the quiet determination of his stare and the steely way in which he spoke.

“I only ask,” Duncan added. “That I should go instead. She is my wife and I want her to be with someone she trusts completely as soon as she leaves the clutches of those men.”

Louis nodded. He was worried about Duncan losing control of himself in the face of his wife’s kidnappers, but that was a risk he was going to have to take. “Very well,” he agreed. “You shall come with us, and Niall shall stay here.”

Louis turned to Niall for confirmation and he readily agreed.

He rapped his knuckles on the table. “We set out in less than an hour, while we still have the cover of darkness. It might be harder to track her, but we’ll make at least some headway.”

Harry reached under the table and squeezed his knee just before everyone else got up and left to prepare for their mission.

They waited until everyone else had cleared out before sneaking up to his chambers.

Once Louis closed the door, Harry rounded on him. “I want to come with you,” he demanded.

“You can’t, and you know that.”

Harry stacked his hands on top of his head and blew out a frustrated breath. “Don’t be patronizing,” he growled. Louis didn’t dignify it with a response.

Crowding him, encroaching on Louis space, Harry gripped the fabric of Louis’ tunic and drew him close.

“If you don’t come back with her, or if you don’t come back at—” Harry cut himself off. “I said it before and I will say it again, I will go after everything Ian Mackenzie has ever touched from here to the Borderlands.”

Louis wanted to pull Harry closer, but his hand was still fisting his tunic between them. “I will bring her back.”

Harry searched his gaze for another moment before dropping his grip. “She never should have come. This is exactly what I was afraid of, Lou.”

He dropped onto the edge of his bed and put his head in his hands.

Louis stopped in front of him and lowered himself to his knees, bracing himself on Harry’s thighs. “And you were right to worry about this. But we can’t change the past.”

“Trust me,” he pleaded with Harry.

“I do,” Harry replied, even though there was a haunted look to his gaze.

Louis rubbed his hands up and down the soft, worn leather of Harry’s braies. “Before I go,” he started, not quite sure how to say what he wanted to say. “You are the best thing in my life. Even if I can’t keep you, that doesn’t change anything. You’ll always be the best thing in my life.”

Harry kissed him soundly. “When you come back, we need to discuss this,” he whispered.

Louis wasn’t sure discussion would change anything, and there were so many things that needed to happen between the warmth of Harry’s bedroom in that moment, and any time they could potentially have this conversation again.

“Alright,” he whispered.

Soon after, it came time that he needed to go downstairs and prepare to depart before anyone took the initiative to go looking for him.

Their party geared up and, following Bebe’s lead, disappeared into the night.

 

Tracks from below Gemma’s window at the keep had predictably led them south back towards the Mackenzie strongholds. Zayn knew every leaf and every rock of the Highlands, which meant had a few guesses as to where they were holding her.

There was a small stone tower stronghold a few miles even further south, and Zayn thought that might be the most likely place given where the tracks had been leading them through the last few hours of darkness.

They stayed on horseback as long as they possibly could to cover more ground before hiding the animals in a tucked away glen. The sun had just started to rise, and it felt as though the whole of the Highlands was unsettlingly still.

Louis led them through a hill pass until they came around the other side. The tower was just at the base of the hill and they kept themselves low and out of sight.

He was the most expert marksman out of all of them, so he got as close as he could with sufficient cover before he raised his bow and concentrated on the stone structure. There was no reason for it to be in use at all, it was well and truly abandoned.

Which made the smoke coming out of the chimney on the west side of the tower a touch suspect.

Louis dropped his bow and retreated to join the others.

“She’s being kept in a room on the west side of the tower. It’s too tall to climb. We can wait—”

Duncan shook his head. “There’s not enough time if we want to make it back before anything disastrous happens.”

Louis was still of the mind that no matter what happened, their forces far outnumbered the Mackenzie’s, but he understood the skepticism.

“Very well. We’re going in blind, so we don’t know how many men are guarding her. But we also know that the Mackenzie is marching on Harry, so we can assume it’s not many. Two, maybe three.”

The rest of the party waited for him to call their attack strategy. A rush of adrenaline went through him the way it always did when he was gearing up for a battle. No matter how small.

“Ambush it is,” he said. “We’ll go in from the front. Bebe, there has to be a second entrance. Find it, cut them off at the knees if they try to escape.”

“ _Avec plaisir.”_

They split up, Bebe staying low and going around the back of the tower. Zayn kept watch as Louis and Duncan approached the main entrance to the tower. The door was locked, which was predictable, but Duncan slamming it with the butt of his sword handle made enough noise that it took away the element of surprise.

Noises sprang up and floated out of the upper window. At least they were in the right place.

Louis let Duncan take the lead up the stairs, but no one came down to greet them on the offensive. There were a few other rooms in the tower as they made their way to the top, but they were all empty.

Finally they reached the highest room. Gemma was tied up and gagged in a chair off to the left near the fire, and Louis felt a wave of relief at seeing her there unharmed.

Duncan easily took the lead in fending off the two men there to guard her. The metal of his sword against the guards’ clanged as Louis gripped his dagger and rushed towards Gemma. She lifted her hands into a position that had to be a little bit uncomfortable, but made it much easier for him to take his knife to her bindings.

The rope slipped in his hand a little as he gripped it and used the edge of his blade to slice through the thick, heavy fibers.

With one last swipe her hands were free and as he set to work on her feet, she rushed to pull the gag out of your mouth.

“How did you find me?” she asked hurriedly as she kept her eye on the battle Duncan was waging with her captors to make sure one of the men didn’t break free and come for them.

“Secret weapon,” Louis murmured as he concentrated on freeing one foot and then the other. As he answered her, Bebe entered the fray from the back stairs, sending one dagger flying through the air to embed itself in the back of the man still pestering Duncan.

“I see,” Gemma said with an impressed edge to her tone. Standing for the first time in what had to be hours and shaking out her muscles, she rounded on Louis with a crazed expression. “What about Rose? Did you find her? We need to get back.”

“You couldn’t have been gone for more than a few minutes when I found her, you did well to cover her in the face of danger. She was perfect. Your mother took her to a wet nurse and has refused to leave her side,” Louis assured her.

Gemma’s ferocity and careful composure crumpled in the face of relief. Her tears finally began to fall and Louis moved to comfort her, but Duncan and Bebe had made quick work of both guards and nothing could get in Duncan’s way as he strode over and gathered his wife in his arms.

Louis bit down on a warning that they needed to leave. They deserved their reunion.

He needn’t have worried, because after a moment they separated and surprisingly it was Gemma who pushed them to go.

“We must get back to Edwards land. To Harry,” she said to Louis pleadingly. Trusting her terror was for a reason, both he and Duncan followed her directive heading for the main stairwell as Bebe once again went down the backstairs to make sure there was no one else coming.

“Explain as we go,” Louis called to her over his shoulder. staying alert for more men. He didn’t think they were coming though. If Louis had a valuable asset that he intended to use as a bargaining tool, he never would have left her with just two guards. Two guards alone made it easy for one to betray the other and have no one be the wiser.

They crossed the valley and gathered Zayn, rushing on foot back to the horses, time the only force driving them.

When they were safely to the glen, in the process of mounting up to ride back, Gemma recounted her story.

“They were misinformed from the very beginning,” she said wryly as she eyed Louis. Duncan held his hand out for her to step on so he could boost her into the saddle before following and settling himself behind her. For being a new mother, a few months on, Louis cringed at the physical toll she had been through and was now involuntarily putting herself through. It would get better, he tried to remind himself. Once they defeated the Mackenzie, she would have time to heal and she would be able to sleep for a week. He put his foot in his own stirrup and mounted Merlyn.

“One of their men came and took me in the dead of night because they were under the impression that I was Harry’s wife.”

Louis choked on his own inhale, coughing as he seated himself in his saddle. He and Harry were under the impression that no one knew about them, but his reaction was telling. Gemma didn’t say anything outright, and didn’t acknowledge it, so he was most likely in the clear. They all spurred on their horses and began riding at top speed back towards Edwards land. Zayn took the lead, and Louis trusted him to find the quickest route back.

“Of the two guards one was a little too talkative. And neither realized I could hear them through the upper window when they went out to take care of the necessities.” Gemma had to raise her voice a little over the pounding of their horses’ hooves. “They thought me to be Harry’s wife and they intended to use me to get him to surrender. I’m not sure why, but the Mackenzie does not want to get involved in a battle with Harry even though he sees Clan Edwards as low hanging fruit. He has gone with his soldiers now to intimidate him and offer him a chance to surrender.”

Everything was starting to point towards his prediction that the Mackenzie was stretched too thin. Louis and Duncan shared a look to that effect before they turned and concentrated on riding as hard as they could back towards the keep.

Along the way Louis contemplated the Mackenzie’s strategy. Not just with Gemma, but about his path through the Midlands as well intent on conquering everything and everyone. It was all terribly unimaginative.

His view of power was controlling as many holdings as possible, which he set out to do without thinking about how to actually keep those holdings. They had been so worried about protecting themselves against the growing threat, they hadn’t bothered to investigate if the clans were still under Mackenzie rule.   

Then, to strike at the heart of a man, he kidnapped his “wife” and stole her away to the top of a tower. The idea of using a damsel in distress to force Harry’s hand was pulled straight from the legends of old.

There had been plenty of clans, especially in the beginning, that had faced vicious and brutal completely all encompassing attacks that crippled them. But because Clan Edwards was just one in a long line of clans that had faced the Mackenzie, they were practically an afterthought.

If Louis were the kind of man to try and crush other clans as though that has some bearing on his measure of worth, he would never put something together that was so poorly planned. He couldn’t believe that _this_ was the work of a man they had all been so worried about.

He could almost laugh. There was no way the might of the three northern clans didn’t outnumber the Mackenzie’s forces. On the off chance they didn’t make it back in time to stop a battle, he had no doubt it would be well in hand.

To think this poor excuse for a despot was the reason he met Harry. The reason his life had been forever changed.

Even as they approached the Edwards keep and Duncan broke off to take Gemma back to their chambers—after Louis assured him he would not be missed in battle—and Louis rode to the armory to grab his bow and arrow from a waiting porter, a thought festered in the back of his mind. A thought about what would happen after they had vanquished the Mackenzie threat.

But it was not the time for that.

The Sutherland and Sinclair men were already lined up and ready to ride over the crest of the hill when called, which meant something was already happening down on the south meadow. He prayed that he wasn’t pushing Merlyn too hard as he turned him around immediately and ran to Harry.

When he approached, Harry and Niall were gathered in front of where the Edwards’ warriors were lined up neatly. Louis would have loved to take a brief moment to admire their form and how much they had improved since he began working with them in the autumn but again, it was not the time.

He was a single moving figure across the soldiers’ line. By now they all knew what had happened to Gemma, and they all looked to Louis for answers, to gauge his mood. As he passed he nodded and smirked at them, hoping it was enough to lift their spirits. They stayed drawn, but he could feel the energy in the air ratchet up as they began to realize they had the upper hand.

As he drew nearer to Harry, he turned Merlyn and rode up next to him to position himself just as the Mackenzie, flanked by two men himself, came trotting down the hill to meet Harry in the middle of the field.

“Which one of you is the Edwards?” Ian Mackenzie boomed. Louis fought the urge to roll his eyes.

Harry stared straight ahead in a show of strength but muttered under his breath to Louis. “Is it done?”

“She’s safe with Duncan. It’s as I suspected. He has naught but these men and almost no force left,” Louis answered in the same tone.

“I am the Edwards,” Harry called out across the field.

The Mackenzie threw out his hands gesturing to the soldiers. “Well, it seems as though you were waiting for me. Not that it will do you much good.”

Harry remained stoic. That was the key to their strategy, he could not give away what he knew and the Mackenzie most certainly did not. “And why is that?”

“Ah, Edwards.” The Mackenzie was smug and arrogant and it took everything in Louis not to whip out an arrow and fell the man before he had to hear another syllable fall from his mouth. “I have your wife. You will surrender to me, before I call forth the rest of my army and we take your keep and your clan.”

Harry’s eyebrows raised a bit, and Louis had forgotten he wasn’t aware of the part about Gemma being mistaken for his wife yet, but to Harry’s credit he remained impassive.

“Where is she?” he asked calmly.

His question brought the Mackenzie up short. “Nearby, being held somewhere safe. If you surrender, we can negotiate her safe return and you won’t have to face my army.”

“I’m not really sure I will,” Harry replied with a sort of lingering cheekiness.

The Mackenzie sputtered a bit but recovered, his smug demeanor slipping in his confusion. “If you don’t surrender, not only will I go through your army, I will keep you alive just so I can kill her in front of you.”

“Yes, but you will not only have to go through my army.”

Niall knew his cue and took it, lifting the bullhorn to his lips and blowing sending out three long calls that reverberated across the field and through the valley around them.

None of them turned around to watch as the rumble of hooves rose and the Sutherland and Sinclair men, led by Liam and the Sinclair themselves, crested the hill and appeared in their full force. Instead they watched as the Mackenzie paled and his commanders blanched.

“You will never find your wife,” the Mackenzie growled, even as he raised his hand in preparation for signalling his men to charge.

Louis piped up. “You’re right, he won’t. I did, however, find his sister two leagues south of here tied up in a stone tower with two guards watching her. Is that what you meant?”

Once again, the Mackenzie sputtered in the face of his own defeat.

“Take your men and leave. We will not seek retribution. But know this, the northern Highlands are united and protected. We shall not be quelled by your senseless violence,” Harry called out, his voice forceful. Louis could kiss him.

When Harry was done with his speech, he turned and rode back toward his line of men. Niall and Louis followed. They were just about to send the men back when Louis heard the faint whistling of an arrow.

He didn’t have to turn around to see where it was headed. He knew.

“Harry! Get down!” he yelled and Harry didn’t think before falling forward in the saddle so that the arrow caught him across the top of his hunched over shoulder instead of in the heart.

Before Louis could call for the attack, Niall did.

“Charge!” he called out, his voice breaking from the force as the three of them turned back around and the first line of Edwards soldiers took off running.

The soldiers in the back veered off to the left and flanked the Mackenzie soldiers as Liam and the Sinclair surrounded them from the right.

From the middle of the field, Louis kept an eye on Harry who was doing his best to fight as little as possible and avoid an out and out slaughter of the Mackenzie men. He made his way through the crowd attempting to approach Ian Mackenzie, trying to convince him to stop what he was trying to do. His men were wildly outnumbered and he was willfully sending them on a suicide mission.

Louis hated him.

Soldiers began to approach Harry trying to attack him as he pushed through the crowd. As each new one cropped up in Harry’s path, Louis drew arrow after arrow out of his quiver knocking Mackenzie men off their horses one by one as fast as he could.

Very few, if any, of the soldiers from the other clans’ armies were needed to support the Edwards men. The fighting was quick and brutal for the Mackenzies and Ian’s commanders finally called for the retreat themselves, practically dragging their laird off of the battlefield.

As soon as they spotted the retreat call, Niall blew his horn once again to signal their men to let their adversaries go. None of them wanted to be party to the Mackenzie’s mania.

This man had been let loose on Scotland completely unchecked, and had clearly gotten away with enough that hubris had taken over. He thought himself to be untouchable.

Louis watched as the Mackenzie and his forces faded away in the distance, but quickly turned his attention to Harry who was riding back across the field towards him. Nothing had ever turned Louis’ stomach quite like the sight of Harry covered in his own blood, but it was only a surface wound. He had no major injuries. He would be fine.

Louis’ heart pounded as he repeated those thoughts to himself over and over again until Harry was right in front of him.

“You will come to me tonight,” Harry said lowly, eyeing Louis as if he was his last meal. Louis just managed to keep himself from smiling as he agreed. He knew of course that the adrenaline of fighting commonly got to men’s heads and made them randy, but he hadn’t expected such a strong reaction in Harry.

“Aye, but only if you see the healer first,” he replied.

Harry once again eyed Louis up and down as he sat astride his horse. “Fifteen minutes.”

Louis threw his head back and laughed, relief making his shoulders feel lighter than they had in a long while. Even while some things nagged at the back of his mind, and he suspected they would until he gave them his full attention, he would always help Harry celebrate his victories.

The Mackenzie was a problem for another day.

 

Harry, shirtless and freshly bandaged from the healer, pounced on Louis as soon as the door to his chamber was closed, kissing him fiercely before dropping to his knees and mouthing at Louis’ cock through the leather of his braies. Louis wanted more than anything to take his time refamiliarizing himself with Harry’s body after their time apart but if he was being honest with himself, he had never forgotten it, burned into his memory as it was.

It had also been the longest day of Louis’ life, having barely slept more than a handful of hours over the last three days. He was tired and desperate to feel Harry around him. So desperate that he wasn’t going to last long, especially since it had been three months with nothing but his right hand to help him through the loneliness.

Louis did not need the added temptation of Harry’s mouth. While everything in him yearned to have it both ways, he was sure the lairds of the clans wanted to meet as quickly as possible to discuss what should be done following their victory.

It wouldn’t be long before someone came looking for them, so he quickly drew Harry back up by his good arm.

“No time,” he breathed out. “Need to feel you.” Harry moaned and propelled himself forward on the bed, falling naturally to his hands and knees. Louis saw Harry’s hand disappear as it moved to the placket of his trousers, then draw back when he had pulled it free. When Louis saw that, he ripped the back of the stretched, buttery soft leather only as far as the bottom of Harry’s arse. He reached for the salve and began fingering Harry open quickly and methodically.

“Now, Lou,” Harry demanded when he had only stretched him with two fingers. Louis thrust them in a few more times before removing them and replacing them with his slicked up cock.

Sheer need overtook him as he felt Harry surround him. “This won’t last long, love. Feel too good. Missed you too much,” he confessed brokenly.

“Go,” Harry growled, already pushing himself back, riding Louis’ cock.

Louis squeezed his eyes shut against that image hard enough that he saw stars behind his lids. All he needed was a hiss from Harry as he moved his shoulder to convince him.

He pulled out and Harry sobbed at the loss.

“Wait, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” Louis flipped them over and pulled Harry’s trousers the rest of the way off before he began situating himself under Harry. “Sit on my cock,” he grunted.

Harry keened at the idea and eagerly threw his knee over Louis’ hips to line his cock up at his entrance. The slide was torturous, but this way Harry could set his own pace without angering the cut on his shoulder, and he certainly took advantage.

The rhythm he set was a brutal sort of sublime torture as he placed the palm of his good hand on Louis chest and began to ride.

Harry’s toned thighs flexed and his cock bobbed up against his long, lean torso. The picture he made was incredible, and Louis decided the Mackenzie could come back and kill him where he laid and he would die satisfied.

Louis let his hands wander, tweaking Harry’s nipples and circling his cock with his hand. He didn’t waste time teasing before setting a hurried pace for him as well.

It was only a few thrusts later that Louis was crying out and gripping Harry’s hips fiercely, holding him down so that he was as deep as possible inside him as he found his release. While he was still riding out the waves he twisted Harry’s nipple and pulled at his cock, letting Harry follow him over the edge.

Harry collapsed next to him, and Louis tried to help him adjust his limbs into a more comfortable position.

“Someone is sure to be looking for you soon,” Louis murmured as Harry cuddled into him as though he was settling in for the evening.

“I know,” he replied mumbling into Louis’ chest. “But give me a moment.” His laughter was muffled in the fabric of Louis’ tunic.

Louis wheezed out a laugh as well, giddy from the victory and his spoils.

“What happened with Gemma?” Harry asked after a moment, breaking through the lighthearted atmosphere. So much had transpired since their journey at dawn, Louis forgot that Harry wasn’t entirely caught up. The amount of trust Harry must have placed in Louis washed over him. He took for granted that if Louis said she was safe, she was safe.

Louis exhaled a shaky breath. “As I’m sure you guessed, the Mackenzie thought she was your wife.” Harry snorted at the ludicrous idea. “It was all very old-fashioned. They had her up in a tower, tied to a chair. But, Harry, there were only two guards with her. You saw how few men he had with him. I think my prediction was correct. He’s stretched himself too thin on his campaign north.”

Harry was quiet for another moment, thinking it through. While he hadn’t started out a brilliant strategist, he _was_ a brilliant leader, and knew what it took to effectively run a clan. Much more than one single trusted soldier as spoils from war who answered to yet another higher power.

“He’s left himself vulnerable,” Harry said in disbelief. “We were so worried about protecting ourselves, we didn’t stop to consider…”

His voice trailed off as the thoughts continued to whirl around in his head while Louis rubbed circles across the expanse of his broad back, careful not to nudge his bandages.

There were hurried footsteps coming down the hall and they both froze just as someone started pounding on the door.

“Laird?” It was Niall. They both looked at each other with wide eyes before Louis rolled off the bed and hid against the exterior wall. The stone floor was chilly and he had landed on his wrist a little funny, but other than that he should have been well hidden.

He could hear Harry stifle a laugh as he got up to answer the door before remembering that he himself didn’t have any clothes on.

“Just a moment, Niall,” he called. Louis could hear him pick something up and wrap it around his body before he opened his chamber door. The hinges creaked as he swung it open.

“There’s a council meeting—Why are you only wearing your plaid?”

Harry cleared his throat. “I was in the middle of getting dressed, but it takes longer with the shoulder.”

Niall hummed in agreement and reminded him again that the council would be meeting in his study in a few moments as the victory celebrations were getting underway in the great hall.

After the door closed and he began to unfold himself from the floor, Louis could practically feel the worry about everyone getting enough to eat. He tried to remain undistracted by the way Harry’s plaid was draped across his bad shoulder and then came down to wrap around his hips, sitting low enough that Louis could see where bruises were beginning to form where his fingers had gripped him.

“The soldiers will be fine, love. They’re accustomed to having to go out and hunt for themselves. No one expects you to feed three whole armies from your larder.”

Harry grimaced before reluctantly agreeing with him and turned to get dressed so they could attend the meeting.

Even as he followed Harry down to the main part of the keep, Louis knew nothing had changed. Harry had obligations to his clan, Louis wanted to stay with his family, or at the very least see them every time he came home. Because he did think he was going to have to go away again. It wouldn’t be far this time, but it would be far enough.

As soon as he started to see the bigger picture of Mackenzie and his rule, he had known deep within himself that he was going to ask Liam if he could lead a troop of men out to help liberate some of the clans that had been conquered. The lairds, if they hadn’t been killed, needed to be restored to their rightful places at the heads of their clans.

The Mackenzie was vulnerable, the king seemed to have no intention of intervening, and Louis was in a position that he could do something about it. He needed to help, and he was going to propose his plan when he had all three lairds in a room with their councils so he could obtain their full-throated support.

Two he knew were sewn up, but he had no idea how Harry would react.

Everyone in Harry’s study congratulated each other and pints were passed around to drink in celebration as the discussion got underway about what to do from there. Finally, Liam mentioned something about the pillaged clans that had been left behind which sparked a discussion about which clans the Mackenzie currently held no matter how precariously and Louis saw his opening.

Only, Harry got there first.

“I think Tomlinson has already started concocting a plan for them,” Harry said with a sly, leading smile that hid the sadness in his eyes.

Shocked, Louis lost the ability to speak. The Sinclair prompted him. “Well?” the man asked, not unkindly.

“Right,” he said shaking himself off. Harry knew him so incredibly well, better than anyone. He knew what Louis meant even when he had not laid out his plan explicitly. “I would like to lead a team of men to some of the clans the Mackenzie has invaded and left in his wake. I think with added soldiers and fresh blood many of the lairds should be able to take their clans back.”

“A team of Sutherland men?” Liam asked. It didn’t sound as though he was rejecting the idea.

“If we have the men to spare,” Louis agreed. “But I would be more than happy to accept volunteers should they arise from either Edwards or Sinclair as well.”

“Very well then,” the Sinclair exclaimed. “I like the idea. Start taking the power back from that idiot. What say you, Sutherland?”

Liam agreed wholeheartedly, and everyone looked to Harry collectively. There was nothing he could do but agree, and Louis hated to put him in that position, but he needed everyone’s support for his plan to work.

While everyone looked at Harry, Harry looked at him. They held their gaze for a heartbeat, then a second one, before Harry let his eyelids shutter and agreed in a low voice.

A small cheer went up and the lairds decided to end their council and return to the festivities.

Despite having achieved what he wanted, Louis didn’t feel much like celebrating.

 

After the council meeting, Louis was feeling lightheaded, and remembered that he hadn’t eaten since the evening meal the day before.

Harry needed to make an appearance as laird of the clan, but Louis could probably sneak a trencher of food and get away with disappearing for the evening. He turned on his heel to head for the great hall before he escaped. He needed sleep.

“You look as though you’ll perish where you stand,” Harry said as he stepped out from a hidden doorway, startling Louis a bit. Despite Harry apparently knowing him better than he thought he did, Louis was wary of his reaction to the meeting, and to the fact that he was leaving again.

Though, Louis supposed, he was always meant to leave. He wasn’t even meant to be there in the first place.

“I’m on my way now to get something to eat,” he replied as he kept walking down the corridor. On the one hand, walking was a distraction that meant he didn’t have to look Harry in the eye. On the other hand, Louis had never shied from something that scared him in his life. He stopped short forcing Harry to bump into him before he turned around sharply to face him.

“I’m sorry that I forced your hand like that,” Louis said swallowing his fear.

Harry checked the corridor before he reached up and combed his fingers through the bottom of Louis’ hair. “I know.” His sad little smile was back, and it made Louis sick to his stomach. “But I helped. I could tell from the way you spoke of it earlier that you wanted to help. Niall interrupted us before we could discuss it at length.”

Louis turned his head and kissed his hand. “Can I come to you tonight?” They really did need to have this discussion that they kept postponing.

“As if I would let you sleep anywhere else,” Harry said softly.

They separated and turned to continue down the corridor again, both headed to the great hall. He wasn’t sure what Harry planned to do, but he planned to have some food and make his excuses. If he made it back to Harry’s chamber quickly, he might be able to get some of that much needed sleep.

 

Belly full of ale, potatoes, and a beautiful wild boar stew that Aileen said she only made on special occasions, Louis finally managed to escape the throngs of revelers. As he left the hall, the dancing was still going strong and the wine was flowing aplenty.

The amount of celebrations he had seen here made him wonder what it was like before Harry took over after his father’s death, and before the clan worked hard to make sure their coffers were plentiful. He had seen from the moment they met that Harry was a great leader, and he was glad for it, but there was a careful sort of optimism in the way Clan Edwards enjoyed themselves.

Louis had met some of the best most welcoming people he had ever come across here. He loved his own clan, and the home he had there, but it was comforting to know that their warmth and kindness wasn’t a fluke. There were other clans, their neighboring clan, that mirrored their values.

He was lost in thought as he entered Harry’s empty chamber. Without thinking, he peeled his outer layers off and hung them up before going over to the hearth and putting an iron pot filled with water over the fire to heat up. He couldn’t very well call the maids to heat up enough water and stones for him to take a full bath, but he had this at least.

As an afterthought, he put a put a basalt stone on the fire in case Harry wanted to warm the water up again when he came back.

The water began to steam a bit, so Louis took it off the fire and poured it into the stone basin.

He removed the rest of his clothing and set about thoroughly washing away the grime and effects of the past few days. Standing at Harry’s wash basin made him think about every other time he had stood there doing the same thing. He loved the domestic intimacy of cleansing Harry’s skin after they laid together. It made him long to do it every day. He was kidding himself if he didn’t admit that all Harry had to do was write and Louis would ride all the way from Clan Sutherland just to lay down with him and take care of him.

Thoughts of wide expanses of Harry’s skin were so distracting that Louis had absolutely no warning before the door to the chamber opened.

Harry didn’t so much as pause as he entered to see Louis’ naked form, removing his own clothing as he went. “You didn’t stay very long.”

“No,” Louis replied. They never had such privacy as when the rest of the clan was preoccupied. While he would need to leave at some point in the coming weeks, it was Louis’ mission so he could dictate when it began.

That meant he and Harry had something they had never experienced before. Time. Time to be with each other and enjoy each other. It wasn’t a lot of time because Louis couldn’t stay with a clan that wasn’t his own for long before people started questioning his motives, but it was something.

Louis passed him the cloth and Harry began to repeat his motions, cleansing himself, careful not to mess up his bandages. Louis supposed he should give Harry some privacy for his personal business, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Instead he stood watching as Harry put on a show for him, cleaning carefully on and around his rapidly hardening cock giving himself a few tugs. Then reaching around and cleaning his bum.

“I can still feel you from earlier,” Harry said casually.

Louis choked on an inhale and the trance was broken. He grabbed the linen from Harry and tossed it back on the table next to the basin before grabbing Harry’s wrist and pulling him towards the bed.

They laid down and Louis draped himself over Harry’s long, lean body as he kissed him languidly, trying to pour everything he ever felt for him into one kiss. It went on for what felt like hours with a simmering, smoldering heat that was ready to flare up when they were. But for now, Louis just wanted to relish laying with Harry this way. Unhurried.

Eventually he pulled back, resting his chin on Harry’s chest. “What would you like?”

Harry rubbed the skin of Louis’ back before letting his palm smooth down towards his arse. “I want to take care of you,” he said softly.

Louis hummed in agreement before leaning down to kiss him again.

Purposefully, Harry gripped his biceps and flipped them both over until Louis was the one laid out in front of him. Harry kissed down his chest, stopping to lave over his nipples and trace the pattern of his chest hair until it led to his belly. Taking his time, Harry sucked a few bruises in a little circular pattern around his navel before following the path down again, completely ignoring Louis’ cock.

Instead, he lifted up Louis legs and indicated that he should hold them under his thighs so that they didn’t drape over his bad shoulder before placing kisses around the base of his cock and scattering them across his inner thighs.

Louis was glad he had bathed, because Harry teased against his entrance with the tip of his finger before quickly replacing it with his tongue.

The feeling of Harry mouthing at his most sensitive skin sent shivers down Louis’ spine. Louis expected him to move on from there and get the salve to open him up, but he didn’t. Harry tongued him through the shivers and kept at him until Louis felt his skin tighten in pleasure and his cock began to twitch and leak across his abdomen.

“Harry,” he moaned. He needed something else, anything else. The sensation of having Harry’s tongue inside him was the most intimate thing he had ever experienced in his life, and he felt flayed open and bare.

Louis’ toes curled and he was trapped holding up his own thighs for fear of kicking out and hurting Harry’s shoulder. All he could do was sit there and take anything Harry wanted to give him.

It was all too much too quickly and tears began to prick at the corners of his eyes as the pleasure slammed through him. “I can’t,” he pleaded, hoping Harry understood what he was trying to say. He needed something else, something more. Any sort of friction, anything to help him find his release.

When he was just at the point of crying out, Harry lifted off him and reached for the salve. Louis panted shakily as he felt Harry’s fingers for the first time. He was already wet from his tongue so the glide was easy as Harry began deftly opening him up while he slicked up his own cock.

Harry entered him slowly, and was intent on setting a sedate, even pace. It reminded Louis of the first time they laid together when he did the same to Harry. Suddenly, he couldn’t stand the distance between their bodies. He let his knees go and wrapped his legs around Harry’s hips, reaching up to draw him in close enough that Harry could kiss him even as he continued to enter him.

The elbow of Harry’s good arm buckled a bit and he lowered himself down until they were writhing against each other. The new position had the added benefit of letting Louis’ cock catch against Harry’s taut abdominal muscles giving him some much needed friction.

“Are you—Is your arm alright?” Louis managed to get out, his breath hitching as Harry hit his prostate at just the right angle.

Harry nipped at his lip before trailing down to tease at the top of Louis’ jaw. “It’s fine,” he grunted. “But clearly I’m not doing this well en—Enough. If you’re worried.”

Louis tried to laugh, but Harry slammed into him fiercely enough that it just came out as a groan. “I wouldn’t say that,” he replied, his voice high and breathy.

Arrogance leaked from Harry’s pores as he chuckled lowly and thrust a few more times with just as much strength behind them. It was enough for everything to crest over Louis at once and overwhelm his senses as all his muscles tightened at once before he rode out the strongest release he had ever felt in his life.

The tears he had felt earlier flowed freely with the force of it. Then again, he wasn’t sure if they had ever really stopped.

Harry used his body for a few more jerky thrusts before burying himself deep and finding his release as well.

That night, once he had recovered, everything from the past few days engulfed him and he fell into a deep sleep with his arms wrapped around Harry once again.

 

For the first time in years, when Louis woke up again it was to the sun streaming in through windows with their furs rolled up. He tightened his arms around Harry as he snuffled and let out a little snore. Maybe he had gotten out of bed earlier to undo them before returning.

Louis inhaled the slight tang of Harry’s sweat at the base of his neck before sighing and burying his face there.

“Good morning, Louis,” a voice said darkly from over by the hearth.

Louis’ arm shot out as he rolled out of bed, getting into a defensive position as he grabbed his dagger ready to throw it and bury it in the gut of anyone who dared threaten Harry.

Leaning against the wall for support, Niall was doubled over with laughter. Once his instincts registered the lack of a potential threat, Louis relaxed, blushing at his own nakedness.

“Bloody hell, Niall,” Louis yelled.

He reached quickly for Harry’s plaid to cover himself, wrapping it around his waist and gripping the edges in his fist. His body was pumping with adrenaline, and given that he had been curled up next to Harry’s nice warm body, he was afraid his body would _react_ to the situation at hand.

The commotion had awakened Harry as well, a fact which Louis would not forget any time soon as he glared at Niall from across the room.

Harry blinked awake, rubbing at his eyes in the early morning light as he sat up in bed. “Niall?”

“Good morning to you, milady. Your knight here leapt to your defense very quickly,” Niall managed to get out around his laughter.

Harry turned to Louis who was still frozen against the wall wrapped in his plaid, and his eyes grew three times wider.

“Erm… There is a perfectly reasonable explanation…” Harry was stammering and his cheeks had bloomed a beautiful bright pink. And he was a terrible liar.

Louis snorted. “You’re useless,” he teased as he shifted the plaid so that he maintained his modesty as he climbed back into bed beside Harry until he had one arm wrapped around his shoulders and they were leaning against the headboard.

The blush spread from the tips of Harry’s ears down his neck, and Louis shrugged. “We’ve been found out.”

Niall sat down on the bench near the hearth, a safe distance away, Louis noted. “Oh no, I’ve known for months now.”

“What?” Louis asked him sharply.

“Well,” Niall conceded. “I had a guess. Our laird here has been moping since the moment after you left. Then it was confirmed yesterday. Behind the bed was a terrible hiding place,” he smirked knowingly.

While Louis was embarrassed about his apparently transparent hiding skills, Niall had unwittingly cast a dark cloud over their morning. None of the obstacles that stood between them when he left the first time had been solved aside from the now very small issue with the Mackenzie. That meant he was going to go away again. Which meant Harry was going to mope again.

“Something has changed, and I apologize,” Niall said eyeing them warily. “But the reason I intruded was that you both were missed at the morning meal. What would you like me to say?”

Louis and Harry’s gaze met. He didn’t want to say goodbye yet. He wanted to spend as many days as he could lying there in that bed with Harry.

“You can say…” he trailed off, thinking, while his eyes never left Harry’s. “Say that I’ve gone hunting.”

“And say that my wound has been infected,” Harry added. “It’s the only thing that would allow me to be away for a few days.”

“Consider it done,” Niall nodded before he got up and left them alone in the chamber again.

Silence reverberated around the space for a moment before Louis pressed a kiss to Harry’s temple, pulling him closer.

“I’m so sorry.”

Harry shook his head. “It’s not your fault.”

“Of course it is, Harry. I don’t have to go,” Louis said.

Harry sat back up straight until they were facing each other again. “Yes, you do. You would never be able to rest if you didn’t help those clans.”

“But when I come back…” he trailed off, not sure how to express that he felt helpless, like his hands were tied. As long as Harry was in one place and his family was in another.

“Come back here when you’re done, even if it’s just for a few days,” Harry said.

 

When that time was up a little less than a week later, Louis and Harry stole out of the keep before the dawn, hand in hand, having stayed up all night unable to say goodbye until it was absolutely necessary.

Arthur was nowhere to be seen when they approached Merlyn’s paddock, and Harry pressed him up against the strong wooden beam to kiss the life out of him.

“You’re doing this for a noble reason,” he reminded Louis when they pulled apart again. “Never forget that. It’s all that will get me through these next few months.”

Louis pulled him back down by his tunic front for one last “one last kiss,” before pushing him away. If he didn’t, they would spend the rest of eternity standing there in the stables just like that.

They escorted a burdened down Merlyn out of the paddock and out to the entrance of the keep. Louis mounted him and settled in the saddle wordlessly before leaning down to press one last kiss to the back of Harry’s hand.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised against his better judgment around the lump in his throat and the tears that threatened to fall.

Louis drew his heels in to propel Merlyn forward. He couldn’t bear to look back at Harry standing there alone. If he did he was sure to abandon his plan to go back to Clan Sutherland to see his family first before setting out.

No, returning to Harry at the end of his journey would be his reward for helping the other clans of the Highlands escape from the tyranny beset on them by the Mackenzie. Louis would see to it.

 

***

 

Harry blinked up into the midday sun at the towers of _Dun Muir Òir_ that lay ahead of him. The burden of responsibility to his people weighed heavily on his shoulders these days in a different way than they ever had before.

It had been four months since Louis left. Realistically, Harry knew Louis could never seek to accomplish what he set out to do in such a little amount of time given how long it had taken the Mackenzie to conquer the midland clans in the first place. But he had hoped that this time Louis would write to him.

Harry hadn’t heard from him at all since the day he left.

They had talked about communication a little in the few days they had together, sequestered away in Harry’s chambers. Harry thought they had come to the agreement that Louis would write because Harry wouldn’t know where to send any of his letters because he wouldn’t be able to track Louis’ movements.

Louis had apparently ignored that, and had chosen to simply not write at all.

Harry wanted to believe in him, and he wanted to ignore the little voice in his head that told him no one would know to contact him if Louis had been wounded or died in battle. But with each day that passed, the hope in his chest grew smaller and smaller.

The worst part was, despite the lack of communication, Harry missed him beyond measure. It felt as though one of his limbs was missing. He had never felt this way about anyone before. Harry was in love with Louis, and neither one of them had wanted to say anything when he left for just this reason.

There was no promise that he would come back. There was no promise that Harry wouldn’t be blackmailed into marriage before his return. There was no promise that he would be able to visit more than a few times a year at best, even if he did come back from his missions.

Harry pressed his heels in and Agan started trotting towards the keep once again. Harry had been out riding all morning, the way he did most mornings now. There was an argument to be made that he should be training with his men, but Niall had that well enough in hand and Harry always joined in after the midday meal.

He just found that nice, long rides around his lands were the only way for him to think without threat of being summoned for something, and the only way he was able to clear his mind.

He saw the way his mother fretted about him when he came back from his rides. She never said anything, but he could see it in her eyes. She was worried about his mood and the duties he was performing as laird, but he did everything he needed to do, listened and passed judgment on trivial matters, and went about his duties as normal.

It was odd to him that the mood of his clan and his own were so reversed in a little under a year’s time. Before the treaty of the three northern clans, his own clansmen were hesitant to accept that good and plentiful times were ahead. Then, they opened their arms and welcomed them with gusto. Everyone was still thriving, there was food on the table, even trading had improved where no one thought there was room for growth.

If only Harry could muster up any excitement about it.

There were days on his rides, or in those moments just before falling asleep in the bed he had shared with Louis, that he wondered about the depth of his happiness being tied to one person. He didn’t know if it was right or wrong, or if it was even normal for someone to be so completely in love that their life was lessened when the other person wasn’t around.

Harry didn’t know what he would do if Louis had been killed. Or worse, if he had returned and chosen to bypass visiting Harry entirely, deciding while he was on the road that there was someone out there better suited to him.

When he dismounted, he walked Agan back in to the stables and handed her off to Arthur who greeted him with a grunt. He was about to leave when he saw an extra horse in one of the paddocks. A horse he recognized.

With his first smile in what felt like days, Harry turned and headed towards the great hall where their visitor was sure to be waiting.

As he approached he could hear Niall laughing, and the sight that greeted him was a familiar one. Niall and Zayn at his table with their heads bowed together conspiratorially. The four of them, Aileen included, had gotten into quite the scrapes when they were younger that started out much the same way.

“Welcome back,” he said to Zayn as he took his proper place at the center of the head table.

“Good to be back,” Zayn replied with a grin. The rest of the meal was filled with small talk, mostly revolving around his most recent travels. Listening to Zayn made a spark of warmth light in Harry’s chest and grow. He was happy simply listening to the cadence of his voice, having him back around his table. Which was why he had tuned out the specifics and wasn’t listening clearly when Louis’ name came up.

“Of course Louis has made trading with some of those clans much easier,” Zayn threw out at the end of a sentence as he took a sip of ale, not realizing the ice it put in Harry’s veins.

Niall froze with his mutton halfway to his mouth before putting it back down again. “You don’t say? Was he that successful?”

Harry could feel Niall’s eyes on him, so he kept his gaze trained on Zayn.

Zayn began to sense the unease in the air and slowed his chewing while he darted his gaze back and forth between them. “I’ll say. Managed to reclaim more than half a dozen strategic clans back from Mackenzie rule to restore their lairds.”

Everything Zayn was saying was in the past tense. That most likely meant Louis was done and had gone back to Clan Sutherland, especially if Zayn heard all of it in great detail. It also meant Louis had gone home without stopping to visit him the way they agreed.

The rest of the meal passed by in a blur for Harry. He wasn’t able to think about anything else besides Louis, safe and warm at home with Clan Sutherland. His people.

When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he pushed back from the table and stood up, even while everyone else around him was still eating. He might as well get a head start on training for the day. It would be nice to work his frustrations out with a sword.

“Oh, wait just a moment, dear,” his mother called. He paused in his stride and turned to wait as she crossed the floor. It really hadn’t been necessary for her to come to him this way.

“Yes, mother?” he asked on a sigh.

Anne’s eyes twinkled in the midday light streaming in through the windows. “There are new tenants in the farthest cottage on the eastern hill.”

That alarmed Harry. “I didn’t know we were getting new tenants. Is that in Old Man Gregor’s cottage?” Calling it a cottage was a bit of an understatement. It was one of the largest they had on their lands with lots of bedrooms, but it had been sitting empty since the kind old man who lived there had passed away over the winter. One of the more quickly growing families had been considering moving there. Harry had also considered giving it to Niall and Aileen. “Why didn’t you consult me?”

“I didn’t think it was needed. They’ve left their clan and needed somewhere to live.”

Leaving one’s clan wasn’t as simple as his mother made it sound. Harry had a generous spirit and was willing to take people in, but when they joined a clan they joined a sort of unit. Sometimes it was a unit of chaos, but a unit nonetheless. That was why he usually met with anyone becoming a new tenant, the few times it had happened since he began his rule.

“I would like to meet them,” he said with a heavy dose of skepticism.

Anne clapped her hands together. “Oh, good, I was hoping you would say that. Why don’t you go now.”

Harry knew an order when he heard one and nodded.

Redirecting his path, Harry headed right out of the main keep building towards the eastern hill. It was about a ten minute walk to get all the way down there, even with Harry’s long gait, but the fresh air was nice. He mulled over in his head what he wanted to say to the new family. Mostly he was curious as to why his mother hadn’t consulted him when she knew very well that it was necessary for him to introduce families into the clan at large the way tradition dictated.

As he approached the cottage, there was a woman out in the front yard trying to milk a goat while a young girl with a shock of red hair was trying to help her. Something about the woman was vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. Harry watched as she smiled down at the girl’s poor attempts at milking. The goat stood still, happily munching on the grass laid out in front of her.

The scene warmed his heart. They seemed nice, at the very least.

“Hello,” he called when he was close enough waving to the woman. The little girl startled at his voice and hid behind her mother’s skirts as she got up to greet him.

“Hello, there,” the woman answered as she held a hand up to block out the sun streaming in her eyes.

Harry approached so that she wouldn’t need to strain her eyes. “My name is Harry. I’m the laird of Clan Edwards.”

“Oh!” the woman held her hand to her breast before she dipped in a small curtsy. “Well, hello, indeed.”

Her warm demeanor was like a balm to Harry’s soul and he smiled despite himself as she nudged the little girl to curtsy as well. The girl did so but wobbled a bit as she tried to keep her thumb in her mouth.

The girl was still a little too shy to give Harry her name when he kneeled down and asked her.

“Dotty is perfectly alright,” her mother said kindly. “And I’m Johannah.”

“Johannah,” something pulled at Harry’s memory. “That’s a lovely name.”

“Thank you, laird. The rest of my children are all in the house trying to do some cleaning to get it in order.”

“Yes,” Harry said remembering himself. “I’m so sorry it wasn’t ready for you when you arrived. My mother only just told me that you would be living here, so I’m afraid I was completely unprepared. It was most unlike her.”

Johannah smiled at him mischievously. “She’s a lovely woman. And was so kind when I wrote to her.”

It was odd that Johannah had written to his mother directly.

There was much about this situation that was odd. “If you don’t mind my asking, my lady, what brings you to our lands and our clan?”

He hoped she didn’t see his question as impertinent. It was his right to ask it if he wished and refuse them tenancy if he wished, which he didn’t, he was simply confused. And curious.

She opened her mouth to answer, but the reply came from somewhere towards the front of the house.

“I’m afraid that was my doing.”

The voice stopped Harry where he stood. He knew that voice.

Slowly he spun on his heel until he was facing the front of the cottage where a very relaxed looking Louis was leaning against the front door frame.

He was there. Standing in front of Harry. Looking puckish and whimsical, awash with golden sunlight. He came back.

Harry’s knees were weak.

“Hello,” he said. Faced again with the return of the love of his life and unable to say more than those two syllables.

If he hadn't remembered that there were other people around, he would have flung himself into Louis’ arms.

Louis stepped out of the door frame and crossed the path until he was standing directly in front of Harry less than two feet away.

“Hello,” he replied, unable to contain his smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t visit. I made some decisions while I was away and I had a few things I needed to take care of before I returned.”

“Decisions?” Harry asked barely hanging on to himself. If so much as a stiff breeze blew by, he was sure to splinter and crack.

He crossed the small distance between them and took Harry’s hands in his. Harry once again remembered himself and darted a glance back at Louis’ mother who was watching them with tears already flowing down her face.

“She’s the one who convinced me that this would all be much easier if they all came with me. Her, John, and all the siblings.”

“I love you,” Harry blurt out, cutting him off. He could feel his blush grow. He hadn’t intended to tell Louis yet and definitely had not intended to say it in front of his mother, but he just couldn’t wait anymore.

Louis’ mouth popped open in shock and his eyebrows rose. “You ruined my declaration,” he complained weakly.

Harry didn’t have it in him to apologize.

“I love you too,” Louis replied.

They stood in the middle of the cottage’s front garden with their fingers intertwined and nary and inch of space between their chests.

“Kiss him!” Niall called out.

Harry whipped his head around back down the path towards the keep, the direction from whence he had come. Niall, Zayn, Aileen, and his mother were all stood watching them embrace for the first time in months.

Louis groaned and dropped his forehead to Harry’s chest. “This was not exactly how I had hoped this would happen.”

Harry leaned forward and brushed a kiss to Louis’ forehead, very chaste and polite. Someone jeered. Harry thought it couldn’t have been anyone other than Niall, but when he turned around again Aileen looked exceedingly guilty.

“Come in and put your feet up, love,” Johannah said gesturing to Harry and then to the rest of their spectators. “All of you. Come on in.”

As everyone moved towards the open cottage door, Louis tightened his grip on Harry’s hand and drew him in closer.

Johannah eyed their still-joined hands and her eyes had the same twinkle Anne’s had earlier. “There is much we need to discuss.”

She was correct. There was much they needed to discuss, there always had been for Harry when it came to Louis. Now, though, their discussion was going to have a very different outcome.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it you can find the rebloggable tumblr post [here](https://becomeawendybird.tumblr.com/post/185562504370/after-dark-after-light-by-quickedween-714k-e)!


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